Tempered Glass
by NorthPawRun
Summary: Sequel to "I Brought Foxholes to Fistfights".  Sara and Catherine begin their life together, but their relationship is tested as a disturbing case, a new face, and old demons come out to join them on their journey.  Nancy present throughout.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Hello all! So, I finished writing the sequel to "I Brought Foxholes to Fistfights", and am excited/eager/terrified to share it with you all. I truly hope you enjoy it and that it does not disappoint. Thanks again for all your previous support and kind words. I hope you will continue to review and share your thoughts with me. This journey will be a pretty long one filled with lots of ups, downs, light, dark, etc. Updates should occur pretty regularly, fingers crossed.**

**Hope things are well with everyone.**

**Enjoy.**

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CATHERINE POV

The warm Nevada sun casts an ethereal glow over the room, bathing everything in an orange so brilliant I almost have to close my eyes again. Instead, I lay right where I am, silent and watching. I am almost afraid to breathe as I memorize every detail of the form lying next to me. The way the morning light plays with the natural highlights in her deep chestnut hair, the gentle curve of her lean back, the bare feet that somehow always find their way out from under the covers. I don't want to miss a single thing.

It's rare that I get to watch Sara as she sleeps. By nature, she only sleeps a few hours a night – meaning that she falls asleep long after me and is usually up reading with coffee in hand by the time I wake in the morning. When we first moved in together, it used to make me uncomfortable. I never liked being asleep while others around me were still awake. But now, it has become comforting in its own way. Some part of me appreciates the idea that Sara is there while I am sleeping, silently keeping watch as the dark hours tick by. But now, on this beautiful Tuesday morning, it is my turn to keep watch.

And I'm not planning on missing a moment of it.

Her back rises and falls steadily, her breathing barely audible. Her hair is gently splayed across her face, blocking her eyes from the light of the rising sun. I'm sure it's the only thing keeping her from waking; the darkness fooling her body into thinking it is later than it is. It's hard to resist the urge to reach out and touch her, to run my fingers through her silky hair, but I know it would awaken her in an instant. Sara is one of the lightest sleepers I have ever known.

I feel a smile grow across my face as the reality of our relationship once again washes over me. There is rarely a day that goes by that I do not savor the fact of Sara and I finally starting our life together. I keep looking around like a tourist in an exquisite new land, taking in the sights and sounds eagerly, but all the while trying to convince myself that what I am experiencing isn't just a stunning mirage. It seems so extraordinary, Sara Sidle finally in my life, and hopefully for the rest of my life.

I am so damn blessed.

Sara begins to stir next to me, and I watch as she furrows her brows at the amount of light she can now see filtering into the room. The room is usually bathed in a palate of blacks and grays when she begins her day. Turning to me, she sends me a sheepish smile when she realizes I have awakened before her. Her smile, however, soon falters.

Reaching out her hand to caress my face, she looks at me with concern. "Cath? What's wrong, babe?"

Her fingers gently wipe my cheeks, and I register the feeling of wetness beneath her tentative touch. Smiling, I take her concerned hands in mine, holding them tightly to my chest.

"Nothing's wrong, Sar. These are happy tears, I promise. I was just thinking about how lucky I am to get to wake up next to you every morning, and how glad I am to finally have you in my life." I feel like a sap, but I've always been honest in my feelings, and have never been ashamed to show them to the people I love.

I can visibly see Sara relax, and instead of responding with words, she simply leans forward and kisses me softly. People usually say they can read the emotions in their lover's eyes, but with Sara, it's always been her kisses. She can guard her emotions even from her eyes sometimes, but every time she kisses me, it's like a window has been opened between us. In this moment, I can feel her love and her deep affection clearer than if she had said the words aloud. Smiling into the kiss, we finally separate and she leans her forehead into mine. "I have the same problem," she states softly, her voice still husky from sleep.

"Yeah?"

"Every day. When I lay next to you as you sleep, when I am driving to a scene, when I am out for a run, when I catch your eye during morning assignments. Each time I think of you, it's all I can do to keep myself together. The idea of having you as the woman I get to love for the rest of my life quite literally brings me to my knees, Catherine."

Before I got close to Sara, I often thought that she was one of the least emotional people I have ever encountered. Never seeing her cry and rarely raising her voice in anger, I always assumed it was because she simply never felt sad or angry enough. But now that I have gotten to know her, I realize she feels things at a level so deep that most people could never match it in their lifetime. She may not express emotions in physical ways very often, but they are always present just below the surface. Sometimes you will get subtle hints, such as a tremor in her hands or a glint in her eye, but most times she lets me glimpse it through her words and actions. The way she kisses me, or reaches out for my hand, it's all a map of what's going on inside.

I laugh quietly, holding her face between my palms. "Well, I think we make quite a pair. I'll start bursting into 'tears of love' while you tumble to your knees, I'm sure the guys at work will think our relationship is going quite well."

Sara laughs herself, "No, but we might get a mandatory 'mental health' leave of absence out of it. Finally get some decent time off."

The fact that Sara, workaholic, is even suggesting a desire for a break from the lab indicates just how nuts the last few weeks have been. But I suspect, like me, that most of her frustration with work lies in the time that it steals away from us. Time that we otherwise would be eagerly spending with one another.

A gentle whining coming from our doorway brings us both out of our thoughts. Sara is instantly out of bed and grabbing for some sweatpants to throw on over her boxer shorts. "Oh Mesa, I'm so sorry!"

Our German shepherd collie mix is standing in our doorway with a slightly pained look on his face. My guess is he, and his bladder, finally lost patience waiting for Sara to arrive for their morning run together. Seeing that Sara is stepping awkwardly into her shoes and throwing up her hair at the same time, he wags his tail and heads out of our room to wait for her.

When we first moved into our new house, during our first dinner together Sara got very quiet. My overactive imagination immediately took hostage the rational portions of my brain, and I began to worry that her silence was a result of anything from regret about moving in with me to disgust at my attempt at vegetarian cooking. About half way through the meal, however, Sara finally looked up at me and in a hesitant voice asked, "Cath, do you think we could get a dog?" The question caught me so off guard that I wasn't able to respond in a timely fashion, causing Sara to go on. "It's just that I have always wanted one, but my apartment wouldn't allow them. But if you aren't okay with it then I understand. Or if you are allergic –"

Finally cutting her off, I put up some fake complaints about leaving the dog too long on its own while we work our long hours, blah blah blah, knowing the entire time that I would give Sara anything she wanted. Sara rarely asks for anything, and I was already planning how I could surprise her with a dog that weekend.

Knowing Sara's soft spot for animals, I decided to rescue a dog from a shelter for her instead of buying one from a breeder. On my first visit, I saw Mesa across the room and instantly knew he was perfect for Sara, for us. He has such a gentle spirit, immense intelligence, and is only a year old – making him a perfect companion for Sara on her long runs.

The look on Sara's face when I brought him home the next day was priceless. The bond between the two was instantaneous; Mesa practically affixed himself to the young brunette. Sometimes they will look at each other, and I swear they are communicating on some invisible wavelength. One night when Sara had to work late, I noticed that Mesa wouldn't leave my side. When I finally decided to go to bed, he even curled up next to me where Sara would have been. Grateful for the company, I was able to fall asleep much quicker then I otherwise would have without Sara. The next day, when Sara was returning, I heard her greeting Mesa on the porch, saying, "Hey buddy, did you watch out for Catherine like I asked?" Needless to say, he has been a fine addition to the family.

Grabbing her house key off the dresser and tucking it into her shoe, Sara approaches me and gives me a quick kiss on the cheek. "See you in a few?"

Smiling and nodding, I can't resist the urge to playfully smack her ass when she turns away. Blushing slightly but barely phased, Sara simply blows me a kiss and winks on her way out the door.

Arriving at work about an hour later, I enter the breakroom and pour us both some coffee. Smiling and greeting the others, I take a seat next to Sara on the couch and hand her a cup. Looking around the room at all the members of our close knit team, I am so grateful to have their love and support for our relationship. Although, Sara and I now have to deal with the various crude comments coming from our favorite lab tech. I know he means well, but there are only so many times I can be asked to describe Sara's favorite nighttime attire before I 'accidentally' slip and disfigure his manhood.

Shuffling into the room, Grissom sets a stack of files on the table. Barely glancing up, he issues our assignments almost robotically. I have absolutely no complaints about his gruff attitude, however, when he puts me and Sara together. Ever since we shared the news of our relationship with the team, we receive few cases together – probably Grissom's way of trying to squelch any claims of impartiality before they can be uttered in a courtroom.

Getting up to leave, I take Sara's coffee cup and quirk my eyebrow at her when I see that it is already empty. She only shrugs and takes it back from me for a refill, muttering, "This is what happens when I get too much sleep."

Shaking my head, I call over my shoulder, "Meet you in the car!" as I head out towards the parking lot.

A peaceful ride later, Sara pulls the Tahoe up next to Brass's cruiser. Before she can get out, I grab hold of her arm. I frown as I feel her stiffen in surprise, but I decidedly push the issue from my mind.

"Don't forget that we have to meet my sister for dinner tonight, okay?"

Sara smiles, "Wouldn't miss it for the world."

As we leave the vehicle, she slows her step and looks at me with sudden concern. "You don't think we're in trouble or something, do you?"

I laugh at the look on her face. Sara and my sister have been hanging out a lot recently, but it's rare that my sister requests both of us for a scheduled event and I think the uncertainty regarding the evening has Sara a bit on edge.

"Unless she found all the cigarette butts you hid in her hydrangea bush, probably not."

Sara snorts, shaking her head at me. Just then, she stops, looking back at me with renewed concern. "Shit. You think she found them?"

I put my arm around her with a smile, directing her towards our waiting scene, "Come on, Sar, I promise it will be fine."

Our scene was gruesome. There are no other words to describe it. Picking body pieces out of shrubbery is no way to spend a sweltering afternoon in the desert heat. When I pulled an eyeball, or what I assumed to be an eyeball, off of the needle of a saguaro, I decided that it was going to take a miracle to get my appetite back in place for dinner with Nancy.

Looking across the sandy landscape, I see Sara lying on her stomach attempting to reach between a pair of boulders, her shirt riding up with the strain.

Hmm, maybe a little longer taking in this view and I'll get more than my appetite back…

Hearing someone clear their throat behind me, I turn to see Jim holding out a bottle of water. I simply can't find it in me to be embarrassed that he caught me checking out my girlfriend. Not when Sara is so incredibly gorgeous.

Jim does not comment, and simply heads back towards his car after telling me the scene is set to clear as soon as Sara and I are done. I can see him stifling a smile, however, as his car pulls away.

"You ready, Cath?"

I nearly jump out of my skin when Sara suddenly appears behind me with her hand on my shoulder. I hand her the remains of my water bottle, which she quickly finishes. Nodding, I grab my evidence bags and carry them to the Tahoe alongside my tall companion. After placing our items in the trunk, Sara steps to the side of the vehicle, looking carefully around the now empty scene.

"We alone here?"

Looking around for myself, I see nothing but mountains and cacti spanning to the horizon on every side of us. "I would say so."

Opening the door to the car, I stop dead in my tracks when Sara mutters, "Good." And then promptly pulls her shirt over her head.

Seriously?

This girl is going to be the death of me.

"What are you doing?"

Sara looks at me like I have grown three heads, completely oblivious to what she is doing to me as she stands there in her black bra. "Umm, for the sake of us all, I decided to dump this grimy thing in the back and grab my spare shirt I keep in here."

I continue to stare, trying fruitlessly to keep my eyes on hers. Uncontrollably, however, my mutinying eyes travel down to her thin but toned stomach. Her form fitting jeans are hanging low on her hips, and it's all I can do not to crawl across the hood of the car to grab those hips in my hands and draw her into me.

Misinterpreting my staring, Sara begins to grow a bit uneasy and quickly grabs her extra shirt from the back of the car, tossing it over her head with a furrowed brow.

Sitting in the passenger seat next to her as she climbs into the driver's side, I shake my head in disbelief. "You still have absolutely no idea what you do to me, do you?"

Sara looks at me confusedly as she puts the key into the ignition and throws the car into drive.

I reach out and grab her hand in mine. Now she looks even more confused as our vehicle makes its way through the desert sand. Deciding to get my point across another way, I let go of her hand and place my hand on her thigh. _High_ on her thigh. I smile as she instantly slams her foot on the brake, jerking the car to a stop.

"Jesus, Catherine!"

Removing my touch with one final squeeze, I look pointedly in her direction. "That's what you do to me every time I look at you." I hold her gaze in mine. "Especially when you aren't wearing a shirt."

Sara's cheeks blush slightly, but I see a smile creep onto her lips as she turns away from me and begins to drive again.

Her voice is low and husky, "I'll definitely have to remember that."

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Sara's hand is in mine as we travel through the neighborhoods of Vegas. Sara is looking peacefully out the passenger window as I make quick work of the streets between our house and my sister's. The windows are down and the sun is beginning to set, throwing everything into stark relief. The heat of the day is finally waning, and I fight the urge to close my eyes as the gentle breeze plays with my hair.

Sara seems relaxed, the only hint that she is still a bit anxious about our dinner date with my sister is the slightly tighter than normal grip she has on my hand. If I'm honest, I think I may be more nervous than her at this point. My sister isn't one for dramatics, usually sharing important news with me over the phone. Which yes, makes me want to kill her at times. Years ago, she told me that she finalized her divorce over a phone call about the latest episode of her favorite television show. It was all, 'Oh, I can't believe she was the one they voted out!' right into 'Oh, by the way, me and Josh are now legally divorced'. I'm surprised I didn't shatter her eardrum when I not-so-calmly voiced my complaints about her chosen medium for sharing the news.

As we pull into her drive and turn off the ignition, my mind is racing through ideas of Nancy being pregnant, seriously ill, in legal or financial trouble. I feel my heart rate pick up just the same time that Sara squeezes my hand in hers and leans in to give me a gentle kiss on the forehead.

"Everything is going to be fine, Cath."

I squeeze her hand in return, grateful for her ability to pick up on my emotions without me having to voice them.

Getting out of the car, Sara immediately has her arm supportively around my waist as we climb the steps to Nancy's front door. Taking a deep breath and nodding to Sara that I am ready, she lightly knocks to announce our presence. Even the knocking seems an awkward formality, since I usually just use my keys and walk right in.

The door is opened in a rush, and my sister is practically out of breath as she chastises us, "You should have just come in! I'll be right back, I have a casserole that is about to burst into flames!" She is a blur of blond hair as she runs back into the kitchen, oven mitts flailing on her flustered hands.

Sara quirks an amused eyebrow at me as we step into her living room. From here, we have a clear view of the dining room, the table already set.

That's when I notice it.

From the look on Sara's face, I know she sees it, too.

The table is set for four.

Just about the same time, I pick up on a distinctly male voice coming from the kitchen. Hearing my sister and the unknown owner of the voice discussing how best to salvage the dinner, I remain awkwardly standing in the middle of the room, unsure of what to do or where to go.

Sara is shifting herself from one foot to the other, likely feeling just as out of place. We don't have to wait long, however, as my sister comes walking back into the room with a tall and smiling man at her side. Nancy, much calmer than before, smoothes her hair down a bit and puts her arm around the mystery man.

"Guys, this is Dr. Christian Dane, he works with me at the hospital. And, he and I have been going out for a couple months now, so I thought it was time for you to meet him." She looks slightly nervous, but her sandy haired companion seems completely at ease.

Stepping forward, he offers a hand to each of us, "Please, call me Chris." His smile is genuine, and I find myself smiling back at him in return. "Judging from the resemblance, you must be Catherine." I nod, throwing a smile to my sister as well. "And you must be Sara." Sara shakes hands with him politely, her expression a bit more reserved.

I feel all of the concern I had been holding inside melting off of me, filling me with utter relief that this occasion is a happy one. Although, I am a bit peeved that my sister did not mention a single thing to me about her dating anyone. But, watching my sister grinning up at Chris, I am overwhelmingly happy that she has someone in her life again. It took her a long time to start dating after the divorce, and even longer to actually get serious about anyone. Looking him over, he seems like quite a catch. He appears to be around my sister's age, he is tall and fit – having the lean muscle of an athlete. His brown eyes seem kind, and he has just enough scruff to lend some boyishness to his otherwise well-groomed appearance. All in all, I think my sister has done very well for herself. Of course, appearances can only tell you so much about a person, and I look forward to the chance to get to know the man underneath the esthetics during dinner.

Sitting down and enjoying the surprisingly edible casserole, we have a nice dinner filled with lots of conversation and laughter. Chris seems very easygoing and comfortable, sharing with us stories about his family back in Vermont and some of his most interesting cases at the hospital. He and my sister have an ease about them, bantering back and forth with one another as though they have been going out for years instead of months. Hours, and one amazing chocolate mousse cake, later, Sara and I are getting ready to take off. Enveloping my sister in a warm hug, I whisper in her ear. "I am so happy for you, Nance. I want to hear all the details about everything later."

Nancy nods and squeezes me tightly in return, "Thanks, Catherine."

Turning to Sara, Nancy seems a bit hesitant. Whereas I was practically hanging on Chris's every word tonight, Sara seemed to have adopted my neglected role of protective older sister – despite the fact that Sara is the younger of the two. She was friendly with Chris, even inviting him to go running and climbing with her sometime, but her body language seemed tentative throughout the night. Sensing Nancy's concern, Sara sends her a reassuring smile and gives her a hug of her own. Nodding her understanding and sending Sara a look that says 'We'll talk later', Nancy pulls away and gives a squeeze to Sara's arm. Saying our goodnights to Chris, we head out into the fresh night air.

Approaching the Tahoe, Sara turns to me with an unreadable expression. "You mind if I drive?"

Shrugging my shoulders and shaking my head, I toss her the keys. "She's all yours."

"Thanks."

We pull out and begin the short journey to our house. I can tell that Sara is deep in thought, and her slightly aggressive driving suggests that her thoughts are perhaps not all pleasant ones.

I want to give Sara time to work things through in her head, but I also don't fancy becoming someone's hood ornament. "You okay, babe?"

Sara looks over in confusion. "I'm fine, why do you ask?"

I try to stifle my smile as best I can; the last thing I want is for Sara to think I am mocking her. "Because you are about to hit 50 mph on a 25 mph street." Her head snapping down to the speedometer in shock, Sara immediately slows the car to a more appropriate speed.

"Shit. I didn't even notice, Cath. I'm sorry."

She seems genuinely apologetic and a bit out of sorts. "It's alright, Sara. It's not really the speed I'm worried about right now…" I let my sentence trial off, giving her the hint that the person behind the wheel is where my real concern lies.

She nods, letting me know that my point has gotten across. "Really, I'm fine. I just got lost in thought, I guess."

I reach over and squeeze her shoulder in support, letting her know that I am here if she needs. Sara lays her hand on top of mine, and we pull up to our house.

Neither of us makes a move to get out of the car.

Sara pulls the keys from the ignition and removes her hand from mine, staring out of the windshield with furrowed brows.

"You like Chris?"

Her question is hesitant, and I know she doesn't want to offend me or overstep her bounds with issues concerning my sister. Despite the fact that she and Nancy have become good friends, she still seems a bit unsure of her place in relation to the Willows sisterhood from time to time.

Answering honestly, I nod my head. "Yeah, he seems like a really great guy, and I think he'll be good for her. I haven't seen her that happy with a man in a long time."

Sara seems to let my words roll around in her head for awhile before she turns to me, "Yeah, I think you're right." She still seems a bit off, though. So, I decide to bite the bullet and I ask her directly what her thoughts of Chris are.

She takes some time to think about my question, again looking out the windshield at our house.

"He seems like the perfect guy," is her slightly vague answer.

"You thinking 'too good to be true'?"

My voice gets a bit defensive, despite my best efforts to keep it neutral. Though I am genuinely curious for Sara's opinion, I don't want anything to ruin my happiness for my sister. Sara is one of the best judges of character that I have ever met, and I know that if she has a negative opinion about Chris it will weigh on my mind constantly.

Assessing me, Sara takes a breath and reaches for the door handle. "No. I just want to be absolutely sure he is good enough for Nancy, I guess." I can tell there is more, but as Sara exits the car and waits for me in the darkness, I decide to let it go.

Walking up alongside her, I take her hand in mine and smile. "Well, no one can be absolutely sure about anything these days, can they?"

She chuckles and gazes up at the stars. Studying the cosmos, her face grows serious, her eyes intense. "Some people can, about some things in their lives. Or more to the point, about some _people_ in their lives."

Finally turning her smoldering gaze on me, she holds my face between her hands, thumbs gently caressing my cheeks. I am so lost in her eyes that the next thing I know, I feel her lips against mine. Her kiss is full of passion, of need, and I find my hands grabbing onto her back to keep myself grounded. I match her intensity with my own, not caring that we are still standing in the middle of our driveway.

Pushing her back into the hood of the car for leverage, I slide one of my legs between hers. Her breathing hitches immediately, and her hips press forcefully into mine. Holding onto her tightly as our tongues continue their fight for dominance, I push her shoulders down so that she is practically bent backwards on the hood of the car with me on top of her. Strong arms reach around and pull my hips back onto hers, making up for the height difference between us. Her mouth has left mine and is hungrily working its way down my throat and across my collarbone. Normally, Sara is wary of public displays of affection, so seeing her so open and unguarded is driving me absolutely wild. I take advantage of the fact that her hands are busy holding me up, and I put my own hands under her shirt and run my fingers up the lean muscles of her stomach. She moans into my neck as they work their way higher and higher. I keep one hand on its journey upward while the other takes a more southern route. I reach her belt and grab it firmly in my hand. Using it to increase the pressure between us, I drive my leg deeper between hers and–

HONK!

HONK!

HONK!

HONK!

"Shit!" Sara and I immediately jump apart and cover our ears against the blaring honking that is coming from the Tahoe we were just lying ourselves on.

Sara is frantically trying to get the keys out of her pocket, and I am doing anything I can not to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. Finally, Sara gets hold of the remote and presses the 'Panic' button desperately. I release a relieved breath when the car finally stops its torment on our senses. Looking at Sara, her shirt and hair all disheveled and breathing out of control, I burst out laughing. Sara joins me, and we both realize just how close we came to having sex right on top of our car for all the neighbors to see.

"Next time, remind me to take the keys out of my pocket so we don't accidentally set off the panic alarm." Her amused voice is low, and her eyes are still dark with desire.

Taking her arm in mine, I practically drag her up the porch steps and into our house.

Getting inside in a flurry, I waste no time lowering our intertwined bodies onto our bed. "Sara, next time, I'm hoping your pants are gone long before it even becomes an issue."


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Thank you all for the kind reviews. I apologize that I do not have time to reply individually right now, but know that each and every one of your comments is ****greatly**** appreciated - they truly help encourage me to keep posting updates. **

**Hope everyone is doing well.**

**Enjoy.**

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NANCY POV

The sound of the porch swing as I slowly glide forward and backward, the chirping of the morning birds, the warm sensation of coffee pouring down my throat. It's all I can do to keep from closing my eyes against the rising sun and drifting off to sleep. But, unfortunately, I believe it is still socially unacceptable to fall asleep on another person's porch without said person with you. Especially when you have shown up unannounced.

Hearing the jangling of a dog collar and the pounding of feet through gravel, I turn my head just in time to see Mesa and Sara come barreling up the long drive at a full sprint, Sara nearly colliding with the porch railing in her rush to leap over the steps and land straight onto the porch. Mesa is panting heavily, his tail wagging out of control. He pokes Sara in the leg with his snout and lets out a snort.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever, fur face, tomorrow it's double or nothing. And let's not forget about last week, I believe I beat you 5 days out of 7, eh?" I swear Mesa seems to roll his eyes as Sara playfully ruffles his ears. Opening the house door for him, she ushers him inside. "Go get yourself some water, buddy, you earned it."

Closing the door behind him, the brunette finally turns to me. "Hey, Nancy, sorry about that."

I smile, glad to see Sara so happy she is practically glowing. The events of the past year were more than hard on her, on all of us, and I am thrilled beyond belief to see her truly enjoying life again. And enjoying that life with Catherine, no less.

"Not a problem, I think you earned yourself something to drink as well." I gesture to the coffee I brought for her, along with a bottle of Gatorade. Sara shakes her head at me, having told me time and time again that I don't need to bring things when I come over to visit.

"Thanks," she states, holding back a smile. I smile myself when she nearly drains the Gatorade without taking a breath. Wiping her mouth and face with the towel she left lying over the porch rail, she turns to me. "Really, thanks, that was the perfect end to the perfect run."

"You say that every run is the perfect run."

I have pretty much learned Sara's morning routine by now. She gets up around 4:45am and runs from about 5:00 to 6:30. Then, she showers and reads in bed until Catherine gets up around 7:35. During mornings when I can't fall back asleep or want to get an early start on my day, I'll head over here with some coffee and catch Sara at the end of her run. We sit on the porch for awhile and just talk as we watch the sunrise. It's one of the most relaxing and pleasurable parts of my days.

"That's because it is. Until the next run comes along, that is."

Having cooled down a bit, Sara walks across the porch to sit across from me against the railing. Seeing her limping a bit more than usual, my brow furrows in concern. Sara took it upon herself to rehab her leg as much as possible after her injury, her daily run a major part of that. I was doubtful at first, but she really has been able to work a lot of strength back into it. She still has a bit of a limp when she walks, but it is dramatically reduced from what it used to be or would be without her hard work and effort.

Catherine told me once that it serves as a useful gauge for when Sara is pushing herself too hard. That most times, the limp is barely there, but at the end of a long day or hard shift, it becomes more pronounced. She said it drives Sara nuts, but it helps her know when to step in and encourage the stubborn brunette to take a break.

Sara tries hard to stifle a grimace as she lowers her body to sit on the floorboards, drawing me back to my present state of concern. "You alright, Sara?"

She looks up from her coffee, which she is tentatively sipping to assess its warmth, almost daring me with her eyes to just come out and say what's on my mind. "Yes, Nancy."

Sara hates when I ask her about her wellbeing, telling me I'm the doting mother she never had nor wanted, but she is always looking out for me and I refuse to do anything but the same for her.

"Your leg bothering you?"

Sara sighs and shakes her head at me good naturedly, "Why are you always so damn perceptive?"

"Why are you always so damn averse to showing the slightest weakness?"

Sara snorts, respecting my wish to call a spade a spade. "Alright, fair enough. But really, it's fine. Mesa decided to try to cheat this morning, starting our final sprint to the house about a quarter mile early. It's just a bit more fatigued than usual, nothing serious."

"And you would let me know if it were something more serious?" I ask, narrowing my eyes at her.

She shrugs and grins at me, "Probably not, but I swear to you it's fine."

I shake my head and toss the pillow from the porch swing at her. Catching the pillow easily with her free hand, her grin breaks into a genuine smile. She tips an imaginary hat at me and in the worst attempt at a southern accent I have ever heard, says, "Thank you, ma'am." And she promptly puts the pillow between her back and the wooden railing as a backrest.

"You're such an ass," I say with absolutely no ability to put any real anger behind it. "I'll leave you alone about it, but please let me know if things don't improve, okay?"

I think she can see the genuine care and concern in my eyes, and although it makes her a bit uncomfortable to be cared for, she nods her head good-naturedly.

"I promise."

I smile my thanks to her, and turn my attention back to the sunrise which has just begun to crest over the mountains. After a few minutes of silence, Sara's hesitant voice draws my attention back to her.

"Nance? How come you didn't tell me you were dating someone?"

I can see the confusion in her eyes, and if I didn't know Sara better I would think there was even a bit of hurt in there as well. Sara and I usually tell each other pretty much everything, and that open communication is something that I cherish most about our friendship. I can see why Sara would be put off by my decision to keep her out of the loop.

"I'm sorry, Sar. It had nothing to do with you. I guess I got sick of telling people about the prospective love interests in my life, only to have things not work out after a week or two. It got downright embarrassing, to be honest. I didn't want that to happen this time, and I thought that if I could keep things to myself for awhile, then maybe he wouldn't end up like all the other guys. But I should have told you, and Catherine, because I knew right from the beginning Chris was different." I make sure she is looking at me when I say this last part, "Sara, I really am sorry."

She shakes her head adamantly, her eyes still on mine. "It's alright. I didn't want an apology, you can chose to keep anything you want in your life to yourself. You don't have an obligation to tell me anything, Nancy. I just wanted to make sure that it wasn't something I did, that you still trusted me."

I shake my own head, "Sara, there isn't anyone in this world I trust more than you. You're like fucking Fort Knox."

Sara laughs at that, and she looks at me over the rim of her coffee cup. "I'm happy for you, you know that, right?"

"I do now."

I was a bit concerned about Sara's lack of enthusiasm about Chris when she met him, but I was also at the same time honored that she seemed so protective of me. Sara is a good person to have looking out for you.

Sara gets up and joins me on the swing, her hazel eyes glowing in the light of the early morning sun. "I'm sorry if I seemed cold that night, I just want to be sure that you don't get hurt and that he's good enough for you."

I reach out and squeeze her hand in mine. "Thanks, that really means a lot to me. Mostly, at this point though, I'm concerned about me being good enough for _him,_" I confess.

Without a word, Sara puts down her coffee and places her free hand over mine.

"Nancy, there is not a person in this world that you wouldn't be good enough for. Don't ever think otherwise."

Her eyes are filled with love and support, and I feel my own eyes tearing up as a result. Shaking my head in disgust at my emotional state, I pull my hand from hers to wipe at my eyes.

Sara is still watching me closely, "Come here."

Her arms are open, and I lean back against her so that she is holding me close as we both lay on the swing watching the sunrise.

"Now, tell me all about the sexy Dr. Dane."

I spend the rest of our time together telling Sara all about Chris, eternally grateful to have my friend back in my life for good.

* * *

CATHERINE POV

"You have got to be kidding me!"

Sara's hand immediately finds its way to my thigh under the table, and I appreciate her attempt to calm me down. But right now, I want nothing more than to rip Grissom a new one.

With a blunt instrument from the medieval era.

Standing in anger, Sara's hand falls from my leg and I see the slight look of hurt cross her eyes. Now, I'm even more upset.

"Catherine, I'm sorry. I really am. Our lab receives funding from Hayden Industries, and to turn down their request to host a seminar would be like a slap in the face to them. It's really the least I can do for all they have done to support us in this tough economy."

"But what about what that does to us while you are gone? In case you forgot, Warrick is dead, Grissom. Nick is on personal leave until otherwise noted. And Greg is back in the lab ever since his replacement got transferred to Albuquerque. You know how many open cases we have? Eight. Which leaves me and Sara with four cases each."

Grissom seems entirely un-phased. "I wouldn't leave if I didn't think you guys could handle it. And if you are really stretched for people, I'm sure Ecklie has some hands he can spare."

I snort. "Yeah right, days is even more understaffed then we are at this point."

"Well there you go, then. If they can handle it, I'm sure you both can as well." With a shrug, Grissom adds, "Plus, you being acting supervisor gives you a nice salary increase while I am gone, I would think you would be enthusiastic at the idea."

My hands clench into tight fists, my anger spreading from my toes all the way up to my ears. "Yes, Grissom, now I can buy myself all those pretty little sparkly trinkets and bobbles I've had my eye on."

Smiling, he turns to leave the room, "See? There's a bright side to everything!"

And with that, he is gone.

Turning with murder in my eyes, I slam my fist down onto the breakroom table. "Damn him!"

I can see Sara flinch out of the corner of my eye, and she immediately gets to her feet. She doesn't say anything, but just watches me, waiting for my next move.

"We are never going to make it through these next few months, I swear to you. We are already running on empty as it is, and he has the audacity to just up and leave us here!"

Sara's voice is calm, but there is a strange edge to it as well, "Cath, we'll be fine."

Turning to her in shock, my eyes bore into hers. "How can you say that? How can you be so calm about all of this?"

She shrugs, "He's leaving, and there is nothing we can do or say to stop him. So instead of getting mad about it, I figure I'll expend my energy elsewhere. Perhaps on one of my now four open cases, for example."

I think this is why Sara and I work so well together. It is rare that we both loose our wits at the same time. When one is about to go over the edge, the other is there, reaching out with a steady hand. Now, and actually most times now that I think about it, Sara is the one reaching out to me from solid ground. My head bowing in defeat, I cross to her side of the room.

"I'm sorry, you're right. I think I just needed to vent."

Sara takes me in her arms, but her body is tense. "I understand."

Holding her tighter, I revel in the feel of her warmth, the lavender scent of her hair driving the last shreds of anger out of me. Giving her one final squeeze, I pull out of the embrace. "Thank you."

She nods her head without a word, watching me silently. Eventually, she drops her gaze and heads to the coffee maker to pour herself her fourth cup of the day. She grabs an extra cup for me and brings it over.

"Something tells me we are going to need it," she says. I gratefully take mine and enjoy a long drink.

"You want the Kashian case? I'll take the McGraph, Hough, Vergenson, and Belle cases. You can have Kashian and the others if you want," she offers, keeping her voice neutral.

"Sara –"

"It's fine, Catherine."

Sara's eyes are searching mine for understanding.

Most of the cases we have open are nothing more than breaking and entering, murder/suicide, or suspicious circs. But the Vergenson case is another story. A serial killer who murders entire families would be bad enough. But this one removes key body parts from the victims and mixes them between family members. Imagine the dismembered head of a child looking at you with her father's eyes and her brother's torso. Add the cryptic messages and indecipherable mathematical equations written all over the walls in the victims' blood and you have yourself a real horror show. Everyone has been working around the clock to figure the messages out, searching for any clue on how to end the bloodshed.

The case has been getting to me; there are only so many dismembered children I can look at before I start to feel my sanity being pulled away from my desperate grasp. Not to mention the demonic presence you feel looking at bloody riddle after bloody riddle. It's like inviting Lucifer to join you for a game of chess. Sara likely knows my reservations regarding the case, attempting now to take it off my hands. I know Sara will be pissed if I pull the whole 'I'm the boss' card, and to be honest, I'm glad to have nothing more to do with that case and the perverse evil it embodies.

"Fine, but if it becomes too much, you pull yourself off of it." She automatically nods her head, and I take her chin in my hand, forcing her to look me in the eyes. "Sara, I mean it."

She grows still under my touch, again watching me. Finally breaking her gaze and pulling away, she takes a step towards the door. "I know."

Sending me a ghost of a smile, she tosses her empty cup in the trash and leaves the room without another word.

* * *

Unlocking the front door with a mix of fervor and fatigue, I step into our house as rain pours off of the roof of the porch all around us. Greeting Mesa with a kiss on his soft head, I step toward the kitchen to throw something together for us to eat for dinner.

"I'm going to take Mesa out for a couple minutes, let him stretch his legs a bit."

I nod and smile at Sara, letting her know I heard her. She grabs a hooded sweatshirt out of the closet and steps out into the rain, Mesa following eagerly behind.

Throwing some pasta on the stove to cook, I start cleaning lettuce for a salad. It's already well past eight at night, and if today was any indication of how these next months are going to go, I worry for our sanity.

Stirring the pasta mindlessly, I watch the water as it swirls around…

…and around…

…and around…

I nearly jump out of my skin when I feel arms wrap around me from behind, and Sara grunts as I elbow her inadvertently with my flailing arms.

"Oh my, God, Sara! You scared the piss out of me!"

The brunette chuckles and succeeds in once again enfolding me in her soaking wet arms. Squealing like a little girl, I resort to the only think I can think of. I grab the spoon I was using to stir the pasta and swiftly smack her in the ass.

Pulling away from me, Sara wiggles her eyebrows at me suggestively. "My, my, Catherine, I didn't know we were in for _that_ type of night."

I can't help but laugh as I give up hope and chuck the entire darn spoon at her. Easily side stepping the flying cutlery, she turns and nods at Mesa. I have no time to prepare myself as he jaunts up next to me and shakes himself out, the water from the storm flying in all directions off his fur. Screeching in horror, I cover my hair and fruitlessly try to escape the spray.

"You're going to pay for this, Sidle!" I yell with as much fervor as I can manage, which isn't much since I am too busy trying to hold back my laughter.

At last the water onslaught ends, and Mesa trots happily back out to the living room. Looking up from between my arms, I find Sara leaning against the counter with a smirk the size of Texas on her face.

She shrugs casually at me, "Just wanted to let you know I was back."

I snort, what a smartass I fell in love with. "I only have three words for you, darling. 'Payback's a bitch'." Sara smiles at me, obviously underestimating the wrath of one Catherine Willows.

"Go dry yourself off, Sara, you're dripping all over the floor," I tell her, and she chuckles lightly as she walks away. "Dinner will be ready in about 10 minutes," I call after her retreating form.

Despite her attempt at sharing the weather of the great outdoors with me, I am thankfully still mostly dry.

I do, on the other hand, need a new pasta spoon.

* * *

After dinner and some much needed showers, Sara and I are curled up together on the couch. Too tired to do much of anything, we are content to lie in each other's arms and watch the storm raging outside. I tighten my arms around Sara as another clap of thunder reverberates through the house.

I consider myself a relatively open person. If I have something on my mind, or something that is bothering me, I talk it out with those close to me. It helps me think and put a face to my fears so I can better overcome them. However, there is something that I have yet to share with anyone.

I hate it when it storms.

Whenever it storms, I am brought back to the night I drove to Sara's apartment in the driving rain to force her to witness her strength and inability to ever lay a hand on me. But in doing so, I had to lay _my_ hands on _her_.

When I hear the thunder and the pounding rain, I am reminded of the similar storm that raged through the desert that night. My head is instantly flooded with images that will haunt me for the rest of my life. I see myself hitting her, choking her. I see her bloodied form sitting on the floor of her kitchen, her eyes lost and vacant as she is held victim of a flashback into her violent past. With each image, I grow more and more disgusted.

I don't regret what I did, but I can't say that I have truly accepted it either. I know Sara doesn't harbor any ill feelings for what happened, quite the opposite, but there are times when she seems to shy away from my touch. Or, if I catch her off guard, she flinches. Each time, I try to convince myself that it's not me, it's not a result of that night. But each time it happens, I'm frightened by the possibility that my lover is afraid of me. That Sara thinks I'll hurt her. And, honestly, after what I did that night – who could blame her.

Holding her close, I realize that her eyes are closed, her head resting on my chest. I know better than to think she is asleep, but seeing her so relaxed in my arms, I get a little bit of hope back.

Hope that someday, like Sara already has, I will be able to forgive myself for what I have done.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Thanks again to all those who reviewed! Hope all is well for everyone and the week is going alright so far.**

**Enjoy.**

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CATHERINE POV

My hands are aching and my legs are burning.

I have found another problem with having so many open cases that I can add to my bitterness list.

Problem number 319: There is so much damn paperwork.

Just the mere act of consolidating all the evidence from my respective cases into the same lab has left me winded. Focusing on the positive, though, there have been no new cases that have come in and I am about to close one of my four. I cling to the idea of three open cases like a diver to their oxygen tank.

Three feels possible.

Signing on the appropriate lines, dotting the i's and crossing the t's, I give the file folder a jubilant kiss and toss it in my outbox.

Noting the time, I head to check in with Sara and see if we can possibly head out of here a bit early. "Early" being a relative term, seeing as how it's still hours past the end of shift, but it would be much earlier than the times we have been dragging our sorry selves out of the lab the last couple days. I don't want to confess how literal the expression 'burning the midnight oil' has become for us.

Knocking on the doorway to the lab Sara is in, I try not to look at the gruesome pictures splayed across the walls like a scene from an Edgar Allen Poe creation. The perk of being so understaffed has been that Sara and I have essentially taken over our current labs. With no one else needing the rooms, we have been able to spread out and monopolize our space.

"If you were going to kill someone, would you rather use a lampshade or salad tongs?" Sara's voice draws me out of my thoughts, and it takes me a second for her absurd words to register.

"Uh, I guess I would have to go with the lampshade. There's something to be said for originality."

Finally turning to me, Sara raises her brows and crosses her arms across her chest, "I always pictured you a salad tong type of girl."

Rolling my eyes at her, I step into the room. "Are you asking for any particular reason, or is this some strange fetish of yours I was unaware of?"

"My fetishes are much more beneficial to the participants than death and disembowelment."

Her voice is serious and so incredibly seductive, literally causing a pause in my step. Forcing myself to keep my wits about me, I match her gaze, and in a voice equally as seductive, say, "We will be exploring that claim of yours in great depth very soon, Miss Sidle."

Sara removes her gaze from me with a grin pulling at her lips and an amused shake of her head. "Those were the murder weapons in the Hough and Belle cases I just closed. It's all so very Stepford-wife-gone-wrong."

Grabbing two large case files, she hands them to me with a mock flourish, "And now they are all yours, boss."

Taking them from her, I smile at the thought that Sara is now down to only two cases. Crossing my fingers that we continue to have limited new assignments, I feel that we may just survive our first week of flying solo.

"You ready to get out of here?"

Already gathering up her things, Sara lets out a deep sigh, "I am more than ready. Give me a minute to get all this stuff back in its place and we are as good as gone."

Sara makes quick work of the evidence table, turning to take down the myriad of pictures from the wall.

Making the mistake of watching her progress, I cannot pull my eyes away from the images of the Vergenson case that are displayed on the prints. Stepping closer, I feel each pool of blood, each dismembered limb, every vacant stare of every mutilated victim burn itself into my psyche.

Getting lost in the grotesque and haunting pose of one of the bodies, I literally jump when Sara calls my name.

"Cath, why don't I meet you in the car?" She looks at me knowingly, and has already moved so that she is blocking my view of the remaining pictures with her body. "You shouldn't have to see these."

"Neither should you."

She doesn't respond, instead reaching out her hand to place a loose strand of hair behind my ear. My eyes automatically close at her touch, my breathing beginning to calm.

"They're just so…" I trail off, not able to find the words to describe the horror those pictures personify.

"I know." Sara's voice is soft, her gentle touch still lingering on my cheek.

Deciding to take Sara up on her offer, I gesture to the files in my hands. "I'll drop these off and see you in the Tahoe."

Sara nods and gives my shoulder one final squeeze before she pulls away. I feel her eyes following me as I leave, making sure I'm gone before she returns to her task. Just as I reach the doorway, her voice draws me back.

"Catherine?"

I stop, but do not turn around. "Yeah?"

"I love you."

A half smile graces my lips, and I feel the tension in my body begin to drain away.

"I love you, too."

* * *

CATHERINE POV

Did you know that Barophobia is the fear of gravity? Neither did I. Until I read this wonderful magazine, that is. Alright, it's really not that wonderful, and it's really not all that much of a magazine, but it sure is entertaining.

Sara, meanwhile, is reading "String Theory, Unraveled". Which, let's be honest, is not all that surprising. She is such a nerd, and I love her all the more for it. Feeling my eyes on her, she looks up from her book.

"What?"

"You have a sexy brain."

Sara snorts, "And you have such a way with words."

We both return to our literature, propped up against the headboard of our bed. I am about to learn the history of the long neglected art of butter churning when the floorboards of the section of the front porch outside our window creaks.

The curtain on the window is drawn, blocking our view out into the darkness, but the creaking continues and is now clearly discernable as footsteps. Without a word, Sara reaches into the bedside table and pulls out her gun. Standing silently, we both make our way to the front door and I grab my own weapon from the dresser on the way.

Mesa is already there, staring at the closed door with his ears perked up, fur raised. He turns and gives us a look as if to say, "What took you guys so long?"

I hear creaking again, followed by the sound of footsteps moving towards the front door. Sara nudges Mesa out of the way with her leg, hand on the doorknob.

Looking back at me to make sure I am ready and out of the line of sight, she pulls the door open with one swift movement.

She is out on the porch with her gun outstretched before I even begin to move.

I hear a startled cry, and then a distinct, "Shit!" coming from Sara.

Moving swiftly outside, I see none other than Nancy Elise Flynn with her hands raised in the air in surrender, her mouth frozen open in terror. Sara is currently pointing her gun as far away from Nancy as possible, her expression a mix of anger and guilt.

"Fuck, Nancy, I'm sorry!" My sister finally lowers her arms and slowly begins to get some color back into her pale face. "What the hell were you doing out here?"

Running a shaking hand through her hair, Nancy shifts her eyes between me and the flustered brunette. "I, um, I wanted to come and talk, but, crap, I thought you might be asleep so I went to your window to see if your light was on or not…crap…I should have knocked…or just not have come at all…or, ugh, I should have called…it was really stupid of me to sneak around out here…crap…I'm so sorry, guys…"

Her eyes continue to dart between us, her body still trying to decompress from the shock of having a gun pointed in her face.

Noting the weapon in my hand as well, Nancy finally breaks into a small grin. "Remind me never to rob you two, alright?"

I laugh, and the tension in the air finally seems to break as I reach around the doorframe and put my gun down.

Looking over to Sara, I see that she is not moving, instead staring past Nancy with vacant eyes. Walking to her slowly, I take note that her hand is gripping her gun so tightly that her knuckles have turned white and her hand is beginning to shake.

Nancy notices as well, and is now looking at Sara with concern.

"Sara?" I try.

No response.

"Sara, look at me."

Finally reaching her side, I gently place my hand on her arm. Sara is clearly startled, her head jerking to face me so quickly that I am afraid she has just given herself whiplash. As I reach out toward her hand with the gun, she instinctually moves away from me, her body flinching violently and her eyes confused.

Trying to suppress my own pounding heart, I give her a minute.

"Sara."

Finally, after some anxious moments of tension laden silence, her name seems to draw her back from wherever it is she went. Reaching out again, this time she doesn't move away as I place my hand over hers.

"Let go, Sara."

Knitting her brows in confusion at my request, I try again.

"Give me the gun, Sara."

Looking down at her hand as if encountering it for the first time, she instantly releases the gun into mine in shock.

"I'm sorry."

Her voice is barely audible, and it's obvious that her mind is still preoccupied and distant. I nod my head, letting her know I heard her and that she has nothing to apologize for.

She drags her troubled eyes up from her hands to look at Nancy.

"I'm sorry," she says again.

And with that, she turns and walks down the steps of the porch and into the darkness.

I feel my sister's eyes on me as I continue to stare at the spot in the dark night that Sara just disappeared into.

"Catherine?" Her voice is tentative.

I don't respond, and she turns to go after Sara. Reaching out, I grab her arm. "Don't."

She looks at me confused, "But-"

My voice is stern. "Give her a moment."

Nancy looks ready to protest, and I finally drag my eyes away from the darkness to look at her with all the strength I have. "Nancy, give her a moment."

Seeing my expression, she nods her head. It's obvious that she is still fighting the urge to go after her friend, but she is aware now that there are other, unspoken issues going on.

"You want to explain to me what the hell just happened?"

I sigh. I had really thought Sara had gotten past this.

I should have known better.

"The last time Sara had to point her gun at someone it was Officer Trenton, and as you remember, she put a bullet through his head and killed him. She hasn't had to pull her gun on anyone since. I suppose drawing her weapon tonight brought her back to that moment she took a life, plus there was the added shock of finding one of her closest friends on the other side of her loaded barrel staring back at her in fear."

Nancy closes her eyes and lets out a sharp breath. A moment of silence passes, and then I hear her mutter a soft, "Fuck."

A moment more passes before she places her head in her hands. "I am such an idiot."

I reach out, drawing her into my arms, "You didn't know this would happen, Nance."

She shakes her head in response, and holds me tightly. "Catherine, I'm so sorry. I should have just called like a normal person."

Holding her at arms length, I make sure she is looking at me when I say, "Nancy, you always have the right to show up here at any time for any reason. Alright?" She softly nods her head, but her eyes are worried.

"Is she going to be okay?"

"You know Sara, she'll be fine. And then she'll kick your ass for being worried about her."

Nancy lets out a soft chuckle, "That certainly sounds like Sara."

Pulling her towards the house, I gesture her inside. "Come on, tell me what you wanted to talk about."

With one last glance into the dark night, Nancy sighs and follows me inside.

* * *

NANCY POV

Words cannot express how guilty I feel after Catherine explained Sara's response to me. It now seems so glaringly obvious, and I feel horrible for bringing her mind back to that terrible day.

The whole time I was talking to Catherine about the mother of three we lost tonight to breast cancer at the hospital, I couldn't help but let my mind wander to the tall brunette. My patient's unjust suffering and devastated family are still weighing on me, and now so is the haunted look I saw in Sara's eyes. I know that both will keep me awake into the deep hours of the night.

Getting up from the couch, I give my sister a hug goodnight and head to the door. Sara still hasn't returned, and I plan on finding her before I head home no matter what Catherine says.

Stepping out onto the porch and closing the house door behind me, I would have missed the figure sitting in the darkness if the glowing ember of a cigarette did not catch my eye. Sara is sitting against the side of her Tahoe, and I approach her and sit without a word.

Letting out a sigh and taking a long drag on her cigarette, she turns politely away from me as she blows out the smoke into the night air.

"Nancy, I'm really sorry."

Her voice is a bit rough, and I wonder how many cigarettes she has already had. "Sara, I'm the one who should be apologizing. I didn't mean to stalk around like some damn cat burglar and frighten you guys, and I certainly didn't mean to remind you of that day with Officer Trenton."

Sara looks at me, assessing me. "I'm glad you did."

I look at her with confusion. "What? Why?"

She bows her head, staring at the gravel of the driveway, as if ashamed. "I thought I was alright. I really did. But if that was going to happen the next time I drew my gun on someone, I am glad that it happened here and not out in the field with people's lives depending on me."

I broach my next question carefully, not wanting to accidentally put an end to this conversation before it has even begun. "Have you talked to anyone about the shooting?"

Blowing out more smoke, she nods her head. "Yeah, I talked to the department's psychologist. Anytime there is a fatal shooting it's required before we are allowed back into the field."

She looks at me, but quickly looks away when I meet her eyes. "I really thought I was fine, Nancy, and so did he. It's been so long, I thought I was in the clear."

I nod my head. "I believe you, Sara."

We sit in silence for a little while, and Sara finally extinguishes her cigarette and flicks it away.

"Sara, do you mind if I touch you?" I want to reach out to her, but I don't want to spook her after the tense events of the night.

She looks over at me, her eyes dark and confused. After a bit, her expression morphs into something resembling anger. "You don't have to ask, Nancy."

Deciding not to argue or explain my hesitance to her, I simply take her answer at face value and lay my hand across her knee. I would really like to take her in my arms, but I don't want to overwhelm her both emotionally and physically with what I am about to ask her.

"Have you had nightmares about him, about the shooting?"

Sara stiffens, and I wonder if she is already regretting her decision to let me be physically close to her right now. She runs her hand through her hair and turns her head slightly away from me. "Yes."

"How often?"

Instantly, her defensive hackles rise, and she bites back. "Why do you care? Are you my fucking shrink now?"

As soon as she has said it, she lets out a breath and I see her regret clearly despite the darkness. Before she can apologize, which I know she will, I ask her again. "How often, Sara?"

"Almost every night, Nancy. Alright? Are you satisfied now?" Her voice is softer but the tone is cold, exposing her frustration at her inability to lie to me or brush me off because we are much too close of friends for any bullshit like that anymore.

"You have nightmares a lot, Sara. So that doesn't surprise me."

Her eyes are nearly smoldering.

I match her heated gaze with my own. "Are you going to deny it?"

She finally drops her eyes, "No."

"So what makes him different?"

"You mean, other than the fact that I killed him? That all the other victims in my dreams are dead, but not by the actions of my own hands? Other than that?" I can see that her hands are trembling as she gestures in frustration, and I tighten my hold on her knee.

"There is something else, Sara. There is some way that you treat him differently than the others."

She leans her head back against the car heavily, her eyes closing tightly.

She is silent for awhile, and I wait it out. I have learned with Sara that you will get nowhere with pushing or trying to force answers.

Finally, with her eyes still closed, she states in almost a whisper, "I go to his grave."

When I say nothing in response, she opens her eyes and looks at me.

"I know where his wife buried him, and I go to his grave. I've been there so many times that I have lost count. That is what's different."

I am grateful for her admission, but I am also frustrated with Sara's ability to hide so much of her life from the people that care about her. I would bet good money that Catherine has no idea Sara has been doing this. I know I was completely unaware.

"Why do you go?"

She looks at me, her expression clearly indicating her opinion that my question is a ridiculous one. "Because I murdered him, Nancy. And I should never have the audacity to forget that."

Sara's use of the word 'murdered' instead of 'killed' is not lost on me, and I'm sure a proper therapist would have a field day with it. For right now, I just wanted to give Sara the chance to explore the issue, because I am virtually positive that she has done nothing but suppressed the whole thing since it happened and is now paying the price as a result.

"Does it help?"

She seems to genuinely think about my question, eventually settling on the answer of, "A little. With the guilt, at least."

Sara closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose as if to fight off a coming migraine. Noting the late hour and my own current state of exhaustion, I am reluctant to respond to the absurdity of Sara feeling guilty for taking his life. I am afraid I will say something saturated with my own jaded feelings about the situation and end up doing more harm than good.

Instead, I ask, "Sara, next time you go to his grave, can I come with you?"

Her fingers still and her eyes open. She looks at me, figuring out whether I'm serious and whether this is something she is willing to agree to. Most of all, I think she is trying to figure out what I am up to.

"Yeah, I guess."

Squeezing her knee, I send her a smile. "Thanks, I appreciate it. Now, get your scrawny ass inside before Catherine has a coronary."

Sara lets out a chuckle while standing and offering me a hand up. Gratefully taking it, I am about to turn and head to my car when Sara grabs my arm.

"Nancy, you never mentioned what you came here to talk about. Are you alright?"

Her eyes hold genuine concern, and I am touched at the fact that no matter what is going on in her own life, she is always looking out for me, putting me as her priority.

"Yeah, I'm better, thanks. Cath and I talked while you were out, which helped a bit."

She nods her head, "Good. If you want to talk about it some more I have an appointment with Mesa and the sunrise, and we would be grateful for the company. This time, I'll even be the one to bring the coffee."

Smiling, I reach out and squeeze her shoulder to let her know how much her offer means to me. "Sounds perfect."

Heading down the driveway with my keys in hand, I turn and send her a final smile and wave, "See you at sunrise!"

* * *

SARA POV

Entering the house, I don't see Catherine right away. Seeing that the kitchen and living room are both empty, I glance around the doorframe of our room and find her lying atop the covers with my book in her hands.

"This stuff is really dull, Sara." Her eyes glance up to mine, and I can see a tentative smile grace her lips.

I respond with a smile of my own and step further into the room. Standing alongside her, I take note that she is already on the 38th page. For a book about String Theory and quantum physics, that's saying quite a lot. Catherine likes to joke around that I am the "brains" of the relationship, but she is hands down one of the smartest people I know.

Wiggling my eyebrows at her, I say in my most alluring voice, "Just wait 'til you get to Chapter 4. There's logarithmic equations that will make you weep at their splendor."

Rolling her eyes, she returns the book to the page I left off on and places it back on my pillow. Sitting up, she arranges herself so that I am now standing between her legs as she sits on the edge of the bed.

She reaches up with her hand and gently places it on my hip. "You alright?"

Nodding, I send her a sheepish smile, "Yeah, sorry. I got a bit lost back there, didn't I?"

She tightens her hold on me, "Yes, you did."

I can see that she is worried, and I hate myself for it. Catherine has a lot of her own things on her mind, and the last thing I want to do is add to her burdens. Especially over something as idiotic as this.

"If you want to talk about it, I'm here."

I am constantly amazed at how well Catherine knows me. Most people would demand answers from their lover, insist that they 'talk about their problems' together. Catherine knows I react badly when I feel trapped in a situation, and the best way to support me is not to push anything. In turn, I feel like I have control of the situation, and I usually end up sharing more with her as a result then I would have if she forced the conversation.

"Thanks. I didn't mean to worry you, Cath. I really am fine."

She looks at me with intensity in her gaze, her expression indecipherable. "Okay."

I reach out and hold her delicate cheek in my hand. Rubbing my thumb gingerly across her skin, I try to memorize every angle while keeping myself from drowning in her.

"Thank you for letting me have my space tonight, it helped me more than you realize."

She lets out a gentle breath, "I know it's what you want, how you deal with things."

Her face begins to stretch into a smile, and she chuckles softly. "Although, when Nancy left and you still weren't back, I was in the process of grabbing my keys to hunt you down when I caught site of her talking to you in the drive." Her expression grows serious again. "I don't want you to think that because I didn't go after you that I don't care, quite the opposite."

Sadness creeps into her eyes, and it has no place being there.

"I know."

I find my fingers getting lost in the soft curls of her golden hair.

"Good."

Glancing down at her, I feel myself plummeting into the depths of her gaze despite by best efforts to remain undistracted. I can't look away, but then again, why in heavens name would I want to?

"Sara?" Her voice is questioning, gentle.

My own voice sounds far away to my ears, "You're so beautiful. Do you have any idea how incredible you are?"

I see surprise cross her face, and her cheeks blush slightly.

Not able or willing to wait for a response, I lean down and claim her lips with mine. I feel her hand on my hip tighten in an attempt to keep her balance. Her other hand soon joins with my other hip, and I find myself being held closely to her. Discovering that this position is less than accommodating, I turn our bodies and lower myself slowly to the bed alongside her. She wastes no time turning over so she is lying over me, our legs entwined.

I don't know when I lost my shirt, but the feeling of her fingers traveling down my bare skin causes my breathing to catch and a moan escapes from my throat. Not able to take it anymore, I reverse our positions so that she is lying under me. Removing her top hastily, my lips never leave hers. She has already taken off her pants and underwear, and again I find myself wondering when that occurred.

My hands explore every inch of her, tracing every curve. I pull my face slightly away from hers when my hand reaches the area between her legs. She sends me a soft smile, passion coloring her eyes to a deep blue. Nodding her head tenderly, she caresses my cheek with her hand. Sending her a nod in response, my mouth finds its way to her neck as my fingers enter her slowly. The gentleness quickly evolves into eager need, on both our parts.

I feel her nails dig into the skin across my back as our hips move against each other in perfect harmony and increasing intensity. She lets out a moan, her teeth clamping down on my shoulder in a futile attempt to stifle a cry as it evolves and morphs into a scream. I can sense the exact moment she reaches ecstasy, and I fervently take us over the edge.

Gathering her gently in my arms as she eventually begins to come back down, I hold her tightly while she tries to regain her senses.

"Sara…"

Her breath is warm across my neck, her hair tickling across my bare skin.

"Shhh…I'm here…just close your eyes. I'm here."

I feel her head grow heavy across my shoulder as I run my fingers through her hair. Hearing her breathing even out, I pull the covers over our joined bodies.

Gently kissing the top of her head, I feel tears threaten my eyes as I watch the ceiling fan spin in lazy circles, casting dancing shadows across moonlit walls.

"I'll always be here."

* * *

**AN: Thanks for reading. Let me know your thoughts….**


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: As always, hope everyone is doing well. Thanks again for reading and especially for those who took the time to review - your comments go a long way in making a hectic work/school schedule a little bit brighter.**

**Enjoy :)**

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NANCY POV

Getting some much needed gardening done, I revel in the feeling of the early morning sun across my bare shoulders. Wiping my brow, I have just pulled out a particularly stubborn weed when I hear footsteps make their way up my driveway.

"I'll be back for the rest of you sons of bitches later," I mutter to the weeds that remain blemishing my flower bed.

I hear snickering behind me and turn to find Sara holding two cups of coffee in her hands. "Shall I give you all a moment alone?" A smirk so broad it nearly travels all the way to her eyes erupts across her face. "You seem to be discussing some…repressed issues with your weeds."

Narrowing my eyes at her as I wipe my hands on my jeans, I take one of the offered coffees. "Oh, laugh it up, Sidle."

Not even phased, she gives me a challenging quirk of an eyebrow and drinks her coffee silently.

Hearing her chuckle to herself as I take a satisfying sip of my own drink, I put on my serious face. "You better watch yourself, young lady."

She only laughs harder, "I would suggest using a kinder tone when addressing me…"

There is a suspicious glint in her eyes, making me wary. "Oh yeah? And why is that?"

She shrugs casually, "Well, otherwise I would feel ill-inspired to inform you about the large chunk of mud currently smeared across your forehead."

Oh that's perfect. Fucking perfect. With a groan of frustration, I halfheartedly rub at my face with my free hand. "Better?"

Sara snorts, "Not even remotely."

"Well that's just too bad then, you're going to have to deal with it. Put on your sunglasses or something so I don't blind you with my abhorrent state of disarray."

Shaking her head at me, she reaches out with her free hand and gently rubs at a spot on my cheek.

"I thought you said the mud was on my forehead."

Removing her hand and giving me a satisfied nod, she smiles, "Yeah, well, you were still acting like a petulant child at that point in time."

Deciding to concede to her for once, I look around. "Hey, where's Mesa?"

"Keeping Catherine company. I wasn't sure if I would be back when she woke up, and I didn't want her to wake up alone."

Nodding, I am once again impressed with her thoughtful nature. The world needs more Sara Sidles in it.

"You ready?" Sara asks, seeming eager to get out from under my adoring gaze.

Laughing lightly, I ruffle her hair and step past her down the drive. "Yup, let's go."

Sara catches up alongside me, smoothing her hair back into place. We walk for awhile in companionable silence, enjoying the deserted path and the warm sun.

Eventually, I break the moment and tell her about Gillian, our cancer patient that we lost and the reason I was at their house last night. It helps to lay it all out there, every detail, in order to get the memories out of my head. Although I could never imagine working any specialty but oncology, I am beginning to see why the job has such a high rate of burnout.

Sara is silent the entire time, listening to me intently. When she sees that I am finished, she remains quiet for a bit.

Then, her eyes grow somewhat furrowed, and she looks at me with a strange expression. "You are amazing."

I am literally thrown off stride with that one.

Seeing my confusion, Sara elaborates. "You amaze me. The amount of yourself that you give to your job is incredible, but the amount of yourself that you give to your patients is beyond conceivable. I would bet good money that you know the name of every patient on your floor, including every patient that you ever lost on your floor. You give them such genuine friendship, such dignity and respect. And you give it knowing that some of them will not survive a year, a month, a week. Each time, each patient, you know your heart could get broken. Yet, you don't shy away – you don't distance yourself to protect yourself from the pain. Each time you start anew, and each patient again becomes someone special. They become someone with a name, not just a chart number. Most importantly, they become someone who is respected and remembered. Remembered even long after they are gone."

I feel my pace slow as I try to process Sara's words. It's one of those things where your brain keeps repeating what was just said, trying to convince your stubborn heart that you really heard what you thought you heard. I never do my job for the purpose of obtaining recognition, but to hear that someone notices what you do and respects you for it…wow.

I honestly don't know what to say in response, so I settle for a horrifically inadequate, "Thank you."

Sara shakes her head, and I cut her off before she can even open her mouth. "I know, I don't have to thank you, you only said it because you meant it, blah blah blah."

Reaching out and turning Sara to face me, I look her directly in the eye. "Sara, thank you."

She shrugs casually and we continue walking.

"You're welcome."

I feel like a huge weight has been lifted from my shoulders, and the rest of the walk is spent on more uplifting topics. It's a beautiful morning, and I am glad I get to be out enjoying it with such a close friend.

Reaching my drive, I stop and turn to face Sara, finally voicing a question that has been bugging me for the latter half of the journey.

"Sara, are you pregnant?"

Instantly, Sara is coughing and has coffee making its way out of both nostrils. Grabbing her nose with her free hand, she desperately tries to stop choking on the liquid and get her breathing back under control.

Feeling a little guilty, I take her coffee from her and set it down so she can have both hands free to get herself back together. Approaching her cautiously, I rub her back lightly as she clears the last of her drink out of her lungs.

Turning to me, her expression aghast, she demands, "What the hell are you talking about?"

Holding my hands up in the surrender position, I approach the subject carefully. "Sorry, I didn't mean to make you hack your lungs out all over yourself, honest. It's just, you have had this glow about you today. I can't explain it, but you're kind of…radiating."

She narrows her eyes at me, "You do realize that your sister is a woman, right?"

I laugh out loud, running my fingers through my hair. "No, I hadn't. But now that explains so much."

Shaking my head at her, I roll my eyes. "Obviously, I was aware of that fact. I guess it was more of a way to broach the topic of your vibrant mood than it was a literal question of whether you were pregnant."

"I see."

Like pulling teeth, I swear.

"Soooo?"

"So what?"

"Sara!"

"I don't know what to tell you. I'm just, happy. Simple as that."

Narrowing my own eyes, I give her a once over. All of a sudden, it hits me. "Oh my God."

Sara grows suspicious, standing perfectly still.

I cover my eyes with my hands, incredibly regretful that I ever started down this path. "Oh for the love of Pete!"

Sara is now growing frustrated, her nostrils are even beginning to flare. "Nancy, what is the matter with you?"

"You and Catherine had sex last night. Amazing, wonderful sex. And that is why you have been glowing like a damn Christmas bulb this entire time."

Instantly, Sara's face pales and she starts to turn away, "I don't know what you are talking about."

I know I should just let it go, it's really not a big deal, but the complete embarrassment Sara has displayed across her face at being caught is just too much to pass up. Especially after the fun time she had mocking me for talking to my weeds this morning.

"Yeah right, I bet if I ask Catherine she will tell me all about it."

Turning in horror, her hazel eyes are the size of dinner plates. "She wouldn't…"

I nod my head solemnly, "She would. Usually, there's even diagrams."

Sara snorts, turning towards her car which is parked next to us on the street. "You are so full of shit."

Deciding to have mercy on her, I relent and watch her open her trunk, her back to me.

"Oh, and you owe me a new shirt," she calls over her shoulder as she pulls off her coffee laden t-shirt to throw it in the trunk. Adjusting the tank top she had on underneath, she turns to grab her coffee off the driveway where I set it.

As she turns back around to get into her car, I catch a flash of red across her back. Stepping directly behind her, I see what are clearly finger nail scratches down the exposed skin of her shoulder blades. As if that was not bad enough, as she lowers herself into the driver seat and pulls on her seatbelt, I clearly see what are obviously bite marks marring her shoulder.

Seriously?

As Sara pulls away with a casual wave out the window, I don't know what to do first. Laugh very hard, or wash my eyes out with soap.

* * *

CATHERINE POV

Hearing the front door creak open and closed, I finish throwing my stuff in my purse. "Good, you're just in time. I was about to call you."

Sara raises her eyebrows in question as she leans in to place a kiss near my ear, "Good morning."

I smile at her priorities. Especially because it seems that I am at the top of the list.

"So, what's going on?" She asks as she turns the corner into our room and returns quickly with a freshly ironed blouse in her hands.

I sigh, "Well, apparently there has been a development in one of our cases."

Making quick work of the buttons on her shirt, Sara looks at me expectantly. "What kind of development, and what case?"

I place my keys in my hand and wait for her as she grabs her gun and ID off the desk. "The Vergenson case. And the development is another victim."

Sara's motions freeze, and I can see the frustration as it passes through her eyes. She has been so good about keeping her distance from the case, but I fear that it is only a matter of time before she becomes personally involved. Hell, I feel like I am already personally involved and I haven't even been the one working it these last couple days.

"Shit."

"Yeah, and since my cases are mostly wrapped up, I am going to help you process the scene."

Sara looks a bit torn, likely trying to sort out the difference between boss Catherine and girlfriend Catherine, and to which one she is currently speaking.

"Okay."

Apparently she decided on boss Catherine.

Grabbing a bottle of water, she moves to the door. "Let's go."

* * *

My mind flashes back to every horror movie I have seen since the age of five as we pull up to the crime scene. I feel like I am stepping onto a movie set as I move out of the car and onto the gravel drive of the secluded farm. Even though it is early morning, the hog farm is set deep in underbrush, casting it in long and concealing shadows. The temperature is at least ten degrees cooler here, and I suppress a shiver as I walk up to the rickety screen door.

Just as I am about to enter, Brass steps out, his handkerchief held over his nose and mouth. Looking at me and Sara, he pulls his hand away from his face. "Good luck with this one, ladies. Judging by the smell, I would say these folks have been dead about a day already. The local grocer called the police when Mr. Welmont didn't show up this morning to deliver the hogs they bought for slaughter. They called, but grew concerned when they got a message that the phone line had been disconnected. Everything inside is as expected, seems consistent with all the others from this case."

Nodding, I squeeze his arm as I step past. "Thanks, Jim."

Sara and he exchange a glance, and it's obvious that some sort of silent message just got passed between them. Entering the house, I let the initial wave of nausea pass over me as the smell makes its way into my nostrils.

Sara's posture is tense, but she seems otherwise unphased by the stench. "Where do you want me?"

Covering my hands in rubber gloves, I shoot Sara a look. "You are still primary on this, Sar. I'm just here to lend a hand. You let me know where you want _me_."

Sara shrugs as if it makes no difference in the world to her, but I know otherwise. "I'll take the upstairs. You can have down here and the perimeter if you want."

Nodding, I carry my kit to begin processing in the kitchen. If this scene is like the others, the bodies will all be upstairs in the various bedrooms. The downstairs is where the riddles and bloody messages will be displayed, usually in confined spaces such as closets and on the backs of doors.

The one good thing about this case is that the scenes are usually so grotesque that no one wants to mull around while you work. Most of the officers are waiting in the fresh air outside, leaving me some peace and quiet in which to work.

Photographing and marking anything of importance, I find my fist message scrawled across the inside of a cupboard. Not wasting my time trying to decipher the meaning of the seemingly random numbers, I take numerous pictures and move on. By the time I finish the kitchen, I have found three messages, including one I almost missed written on the back wall inside the oven.

The house is small, and I make quick work of the living room. Only one message is present, an image I cannot make out, smeared across the base of the fireplace. I am about to step out to process the perimeter when I hear I thud from upstairs.

Pulling out my gun, I stop at the bottom of the staircase. "Sara?"

I am relieved when I hear her voice respond, "Yeah, Cath. Sorry, that was just me."

Her voice sounds strained.

"Everything okay? What happened?"

"Everything's fine. I just…dropped something."

Again, the tension is practically dripping off her words. Not wanting to take the chance that something could be seriously wrong and Sara is unable to tell me for whatever reason, I give a fake, "Alright. I'm headed outside."

Tightening my grip on my weapon, I make my way up the stairs without a sound.

Turning the corner down the hall where I heard Sara's voice, I enter the first room I see. The floor makes a slight creaking noise, and I practically run into the brunette as she whirls around to face me, hand reaching for her gun. Seeing that it is me, she places that same hand over her chest, "Jesus, Cath. I thought you were headed outside."

Holstering my gun, I study her closely. I can't shake the feeling that something is wrong. "No, I just said that in case you weren't alone up here and needed help."

Sara nods in understanding, "Right. But everything is fine, really."

I narrow my eyes and try to look past her to see further into the room. Instantly, her hands are on my shoulders, pushing me gently but firmly back out into the hall. "You should go back downstairs, Catherine."

Her voice is hard, almost unrecognizable. "Sara, you're scaring me."

Her eyes warm a bit, and her grip on me softens. "Sorry. It's just, I don't think you want to see what is in that room."

I notice for the first time how pale she is, obviously shaken from whatever she saw inside.

"I am going to have to see the pictures of it in the case file anyway," I tell her logically.

Her dark eyes drop to the floor, "I know…I just…I don't want you to have to see…"

Her voice trails off in frustration, a shaking hand making its way through her hair. Her jaw is clenched tightly, and I step closer to her, my voice soft. "I know, honey."

Squeezing her shoulder, I slowly move past her into the room. It appears almost empty on first glance, but I quickly spot the crib placed in the corner. A mobile swings lightly above it, swaying in an invisible breeze.

Taking a breath to steady myself, I step closer. I can clearly make out what appears to be the body of a pig lying in the crib where the child should be. Looking closer, I realize what has Sara so spooked.

The eyes looking at me from the head of the animal are definitely human. The mouth is slightly propped open, and the garish grin from the animal is composed of human teeth.

If that weren't enough in itself, it is obvious that both the teeth and the eyes are those of a young child.

I feel like I am going to vomit everything I have eaten for the last year. Turning away quickly with my hand over my mouth, Sara is there in seconds with her strong arms around me. She takes a couple steps back, carrying both of us away from the ghastly image. She puts a hand behind my head, pressing it into her shoulder so that all I can see is her, and all I can smell is fabric softener. I soak in her scent, her strength, allowing my body to ground itself once again so I can finish the job I was sent here to do.

Finally pulling away, I caress her cheek with my hand, watching as her eyes close at my touch.

Reaching out, she takes my hand from her face to hold it tightly in hers. We stay like that for a minute, each trying to find a moment unscathed by the horror around us.

Finally, she squeezes my hand and lets it go.

Turning to head back downstairs, I catch sight of her metal crime scene kit.

There is a large dent covering the entire right half of the lid.

"Oh Sara…"

Releasing a defeated sigh she mutters, "I'm sorry, I didn't want to contaminate the scene and it was the closest thing around. I'll pay for a new one."

I turn her downcast chin towards me. "That's the noise I heard downstairs."

She nods her head tightly. "I'm sorry."

Sara tries so hard to stay in control, always a sturdy rock in the face of a storm. It's rare that her calm reverie is shaken, and I am almost relieved that some of her inner turmoil has finally made its way out.

"You never have to hide something like this from me. You're human, Sara." Her eyes hesitantly meet mine, and I can tell that she is still frustrated with herself, but she nods her head.

Looking at both her hands closely for the first time, I grimace when I see the blood and discoloration marring the knuckles of her right one. Reaching for it, I take her hand in mine. When she realizes what I am looking at, she starts to pull her hand away.

Tightening my grip, I look her in the eyes, "Please."

I need to have this moment to take care of her, to feel like I can have a positive impact on something in this wretched house. I need to see that my ability to help is not too late for everyone here.

Sensing how much I want this, she reluctantly nods her head.

Grabbing her water bottle from the floor, I use it and a fresh tissue to clean the blood and dirt from her hand. She doesn't make a sound, not even a grimace when I reach an area that looks particularly deep. Finally cleaning it to my satisfaction, I lay a soft kiss on her palm and return her hand to her side.

A ghost of a smile graces her lips, and she lets out a soft, "Thanks."

I send her a gentle smile of my own, "Anytime."

Without another word, I head back downstairs and out into the cool air. The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can leave this horrid place.

* * *

I make rather quick work of the outside, nothing much standing out as important evidence. I sure hope Sara has found something useful, because other than the messages that no one can make sense of anyway, I have come up with absolutely nothing of use.

Just that moment, Sara comes out the front door of the house, saying something to the officer stationed there. Seeing me, she gestures to the Tahoe and I meet her there. Placing our kits in the trunk, we walk around and get in the car without a word.

"Anything?"

Sara knows exactly what I am referring to, and the darkness in her eyes tells me everything I need to know before she even speaks. "No."

"We'll see what the bodies can tell us."

Sara nods slightly, but her attention is elsewhere. I put the car into drive, heading back towards the lab as she uses my camera to rifle through the digital images of the bloody messages left at the scene. She lets out a sigh a short time later, and her aggravation at her inability to figure out what the killer is trying to tell us is palpable.

"We will figure it out, Sar."

She shakes her head, "Yeah, but how many more people have to die before we do?" Her eyes are vacantly staring out at the passing desert scenery.

I can't argue with her on that one, so instead we travel the rest of the way to the lab in silence, both deep in our own thoughts.

As we pull into the lot at the lab and get out of the car, Sara's cell phone rings. Sending her a curious glance, she checks the caller ID and shrugs.

"Sidle."

As is often the case with cell phones, I can clearly hear the caller on the other end.

"_Sara? This is Chris."_

"…Chris…?"

"_Sorry, Chris Dane. Nancy's boyfriend – we met at dinner the other night…"_

"Oh, right. Of course, I'm sorry, Chris. What can I do for you?"

"_Well, Nancy gave me your number, I hope you don't mind. I have the weekend off from work, and I thought I would take you up on your offer to go climbing with you sometime. If you are busy…"_

"Yeah, uh, no, that would be great. We are in the middle of a case right now, but I'll see if I can free up some time this Saturday."

"_Really? That would be perfect. I really appreciate it, I have been wanting to go for awhile now but never had anyone to go with."_

"No problem. I'll let you know once I get a specific time figured out."

"_Sounds great, talk to you then."_

"Bye."

Sara snaps her phone shut, staring at it like just grew legs.

The expression on her face is comical, and I can't help but snicker. "Looks like someone has a date."

Sara snorts, shaking her head. "Apparently. That was…odd."

I playfully swat her arm as I open the trunk to grab our kits. "Oh come on, he was being nice!"

Sara seems unsure. "Yeah."

Handing her the evidence while I grab our stuff, I put on my best 'mom' face. "You guys are going to have a great time, just open up that big heart of yours and give him a chance."

Holding the door to the lab for me, she mutters, "Yes ma'am."

Taking on a much cheerier tone, she shrugs. "Hey, if nothing else, I can spend the day telling him all sorts of embarrassing things about your sister."

I pat her on the shoulder, "Now that's the spirit!"

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**AN: Thanks for reading.**


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Thanks for the reviews, they help keep the inspiration coming. Sorry for the delay in updating...no excuse other than to say life happens and sometimes gets in the way of things. **

**Enjoy.**

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CATHERINE POV

I almost don't have enough strength left to push the lab door open at the end of our shift. Picture after picture of dismembered bodies and cryptic messages will do that to a girl. I pull Sara's hand into mine the second we get into the car, needing to feel something other than hate and death around me.

Sara, for her part, is eerily calm. I know she is holding a lot inside, but for right now her strength is a comfort to me as her thumb gently rubs circles across my knuckles while she drives us back to our house.

I asked Sara earlier if she minded if I invited Nancy over for a drink after work, figuring that we both could use some outside human contact to distance us from this horrific shift. I had told my sister a little bit about this case, and she eagerly agreed to come over and stay as long as we needed. Pulling into the drive, I see that Nancy's car is already in the street and I find her sitting on the porch steps with Mesa chewing on a tennis ball at her feet.

Approaching her, she must decide that I look a little haggard as she instantly wraps me in her arms.

Holding me tightly, she runs a calming hand through my hair.

"Come on, hon, let's go inside and relax," she says to me with a soothing tone.

Nodding in agreement, I step into the house as Sara holds the door open for us. Nancy turns to her and looks like she is about to offer her a hug as well when Sara shakes her head firmly.

"I'm fine."

Nancy looks a bit hurt, but nods in understanding, following me into the house. Sara calls Mesa inside, and we make our way to the kitchen.

"I'll put on some coffee," Nancy offers while Sara and I hang up our coats and take off our shoes.

"Nance, there's a bottle of whiskey above the sink," I state. I think tonight we could all use a little Irish in our coffees.

Nancy smiles and takes down the bottle. Sara situates herself on the counter, watching the coffee as it brews. "How was work?" she asks my sister.

Nancy shrugs, "It was alright. We got one of our patients into remission, which is fantastic. Hopefully it'll stick this time."

I can see a light smile grace Sara's lips, and I'm sure I have one of my own. Hearing about life outside the four walls of the lab is always a blessing after a night like this one. Knowing that the world moves on and good things are still happening to people helps dilute the sea of despair we spend most our shifts swimming in.

"That's great, Nancy." Sara's voice is soft, genuine.

Seeing that the coffee is done, Sara and my sister pour each of us a cup, Nancy adding a healthy shot of whiskey to each.

Moving into the living room, Nancy and I take the couch while Sara sits herself on the rocking chair. We spend the next couple hours completely shooting the breeze. We talk about many different things, but mostly we laugh and enjoy the company.

Essentially, it's just what we all needed.

When yawns seem to outnumber laughs, Nancy stands and sets her empty cup in the sink. "I think I'm going to take off, I'm exhausted."

I send her a look, "Nance, just crash here tonight, it's almost two in the morning."

My sister shakes her head, groggily grabbing her keys, "No, no. I'll be fine."

Without word, Sara reaches over and takes the keys right out of Nancy's hand. "You're staying."

Sara pushes my sister's keys deep into the pocket of her jeans, then promptly walks out of the room. Moments later, we can hear the water for the shower running.

Nancy lets out a snort, "Okay then, looks like I'm staying."

Taking her by the arm, I usher her towards the guest room. "You can have this to yourself, there are fresh towels in the adjoining bathroom if you want to shower." Turning to her, I take her in my arms. "Thank you for coming over tonight, it helped more than you know."

Nancy holds me tightly, "I'm always here, whenever you need me."

"I know."

Reaching the bedroom, I am slipping under the covers just as Sara enters from her shower. Her hair is sticking out everywhere, and she has on a pair of boxer shorts and an old Harvard t-shirt. Looking at her, I am convinced that I have never seen anyone so beautiful.

Sara lies down next to me and wraps her arm protectively around my waist. She smells amazing, her body still warm from the shower. It's not long before I find myself drifting off to sleep, safely cocooned in the embrace of my lover.

* * *

NANCY POV

I think clocks know when you cannot sleep. Their ticking gets louder. Or, if they are digital, their neon colors get brighter. They just know. And, with each passing minute, the pressure to fall asleep only increases. Which, of course, makes it all the harder to actually succumb to sleep's gentle embrace.

So, alas, I find myself staring at the ceiling in my sister's guest room, the digital clock on the nightstand breaking through the darkness like a beacon of my restlessness. Deciding I at least need a change of scenery if nothing else, I get up to head to the kitchen for a glass of water.

Stepping out into the hall, I am surprised to see light from the television flickering in the living room. Walking past, I see that someone is sitting on the couch, staring at the screen with the volume off. Filling a glass from the sink, I step into the living room to find, not surprisingly, that the late night channel surfer is Sara.

Gesturing to the couch, I ask, "You mind if I join you?"

Sara looks up as if noticing me for the first time. "Oh, sure. Take a seat."

Drinking from my glass, I watch the screen along with her. I am surprised to find that it is an infomercial that has her so engrossed, the overly made-up women gesturing wildly about a freezer bag that keeps food "fresher for longer".

Raising my eyebrows, my eyes fixed on the television, I casually ask Sara, "Can't sleep?"

Her eyes remain fixed on the screen as well. "I am passionate about preserving my produce."

Her voice is so deadpan that for a moment I believe collecting freezer bags is actually a cherished hobby of hers.

Finally breaking out of her trance, she turns to me. "You seemed so tired earlier, yet you aren't exactly snoring the hours away either. Everything alright?"

I sigh, "Yeah, I just can't seem to quiet the mind enough to get it to let me have some rest. And for the record, I do not snore."

Sara laughs softly, "That's what you think."

After sitting in the quiet stillness a few moments more, I turn to Sara. "Thanks for taking Chris climbing this weekend. He's so excited, you have no idea."

A small smile plays across her lips. "It's no big deal. It'll be nice to get back out there again."

I nod, letting the room return to silence.

Noticing the tense posture of my stoic companion, I try to keep my voice casual as I address her. "You know, Sara, Catherine told me a bit about the scene you guys had tonight. If you want to talk about it, I'd be happy to listen."

She turns her head to me swiftly, the light from the television casting an eerie glow across her face. "I'm fine, Nancy."

Perhaps recognizing the harshness in her own tone, Sara takes a deep breath. "But thank you for the offer."

I'm torn, it's highly unlikely that anyone can witness the scene that they did and be 'fine' after it. However, Sara has seemed remarkably calm about it all, and I don't want to press an issue that possibly isn't even there.

"Alright."

Sara shifts uncomfortably on the couch. "You know what, I think I am starting to get a bit tired after all."

Standing, she hands me the remote and I notice for the first time the angry marks across her knuckles.

"Goodnight, Nancy."

And with that, she is gone.

Mesa lets out a little whine from his spot on the floor by my feet and I am a bit startled, I hadn't even noticed he was in the room. Petting his head absently, I swallow my water with concern as a new infomercial about floor mops takes the screen.

This is going to be a long night.

* * *

Feeling a gentle hand nudge my shoulder, I open my eyes blearily.

"Nance…"

Coming more fully awake, I realize that I am laying on the couch in my sister's living room, a blanket over me.

"Hey, Cath. What time is it?"

My sister smiles at me warmly, "It's only 6:15, you can go back to sleep. I just wanted to let you know we are going to head off to work, Sara wants to get an early start on the day. Feel free to stay as long as you want, there is cereal and some milk in the fridge."

Nodding, I see that she is already dressed and ready to head out the door. She places a gentle kiss on my forehead, "Love you."

"Love you, too, sis."

Catherine steps out the front door, leaving it ajar behind her. Entering the room and grabbing the keys from the counter, Sara walks silently towards the front door as well. Finally turning in the doorway, she sends a curt wave, "Bye, Nancy."

I send a wave of my own, and just as she is about to pull the door shut behind her I call her back, "Sara…"

Poking her head around the frame, her eyebrows are raised in question. "Yeah?"

I send her a knowing smile, "Thanks for the blanket."

Her cheeks blush lightly at being figured out so easily, and a ghost of a grin presses at her lips. "Yup."

The front door clicks closed, and another day begins.

* * *

CATHERINE POV

Snapping off my rubber gloves as I step into the fluorescently lit hall of the morgue, I take a deep breath as I toss them in a nearby trash can. After the detailed report Doc Robbins just gave me about which dismemberments from our scene were post-mortem and which were pre-mortem, it's all I can do to keep myself from slamming my gun and badge down on Grissom's vacant desk and walking out of the lab for good. The urge to quit this career, this morbid lifestyle, has never been stronger than it is for me at this moment.

Deciding to get out of the morgue before I make good on the temptations to quit currently swirling through my mind, I push through the doorway into the main floor of the lab. The sound of machinery beeping, paper printing, and the low hum of voices has never sounded so good. It's a welcome sign that life is continuing as usual here.

Walking past the last lab on the left, I glance in as my heels carry me purposefully down the hall. Seeing Sara hunched over the lab bench, I make a quick course adjustment and enter the room.

"Hey, Sar."

She doesn't move or acknowledge me in any way. Her eyebrows are knit in deep concentration as she stares at a notebook page in front of her, her pencil tapping absently on the hard metallic surface of the table.

"Sara."

She still doesn't turn to me, and her expression does not change.

Moving around so that I am in her line of vision, I see for the first time that she has her earphones in. Smiling to myself, I take a seat at the opposite side of the table as her. Sara listens to music at an unprecedented volume level. Seriously, the building could be exploding around her and she would likely never hear a thing, still humming obliviously as the world burns. When she still hasn't looked up moments later, I finally take matters into my own hands and grab a stray paperclip off the table.

Tossing it gently, it lands perfectly atop her head before cluttering down to the floor. I can't help but chuckle as she confusedly looks up at the ceiling, wondering what was falling on her head from above. Finally, as her eyes make their way back down to her paper, she sees me.

At first, there is no expression on her face, her eyes simply looking into mine. Eventually, she puts her pencil down and pulls her earphones out.

"Hey, Cath."

Her voice is quiet.

"Hey, yourself. I just stopped in to see how things are going in here."

Her eyes seem to darken, and she picks up her pencil once again. Her grip on it is tight.

"Not very well." Her voice is now much like her grip, tight and tense. Before I can respond, she turns her eyes on me. "How was the morgue?"

I give her a summary of what Doc Robbins told me, and I can see her jaw clenching in response to every revelation.

When I'm done, Sara waits a moment before speaking. "You doing alright with all of this, Cath? You look exhausted."

I let out a sigh, "Well, then I'm glad I look only half as bad as I feel."

Sara lets out a snort and sends me a sympathetic smile. "You want to take a break and grab some coffee from the breakroom?"

Nodding gratefully, I get up from the table and wait for Sara as she rises and exits the room. Glancing behind me as I turn off the lights in the lab, I see the pencil Sara had been holding.

It now lies on the table in two distinct pieces.

* * *

Pulling down the sheets in our bed, I crawl in exhaustedly after our long day. Letting out a contented sigh, I snuggle up next to Sara, who surprisingly laid down before me about twenty minutes ago. I feel her release a deep breath, and I absently run my fingers through her hair. I'm not sure who the action is calming more, me or her.

Just as my eyes are drifting close, Sara's whispered voice draws me back to consciousness. "Cath?"

"Yeah, what is it sweetheart?"

Sara sits up, turning her body to face mine in the dark. "Would you mind if I head out for a little bit?"

I feel my eyebrows knit in concern and I raise myself up on one arm to look at her. "Is everything okay?"

Sara shakes her head quickly, "Yeah, Cath, everything is fine. I just, I need to get some air. Clear my head a bit."

Looking her over carefully, I reach out and hold her face in my hand. "Are you alright, Sara?"

Sara's eyes drop, and she moves my hand from her face, holding it instead tightly in hers. "Yes, I promise." Her eyes flash back up to mine, and she doesn't look away.

Looking her over one last time, I finally nod slowly. "Alright, yeah. Take all the time you need, hon."

Squeezing my hand, Sara leans in and kisses my temple gently. "I'll be back soon."

I nod, immediately missing her presence as I lay back down. I hear her reach in the drawer for some sweatpants, and a short time later I feel her pull the blanket up under my chin. Then, there is the jangle of keys, the front door creaking open, and soon the start of the car engine. As I hear her pull away, I feel the bed dip beside me.

Cracking my eyes open, I see, then feel, Mesa snuggle in beside me. Putting my arm around his soft fur, I hold him close as I let myself begin to relax.

* * *

NANCY POV

The bunnies were eating the cabbage. They were eating it, and then they started exploding. But first, they sang songs in a foreign language with subtitles.

Thankfully, I was pulled out of my dream (or more accurately, my nightmare) by a gentle knocking on my front door. Glancing at the clock, I see 2:17 flashing back at me in the darkness.

Getting up and pulling a robe tightly around my body, I cautiously approach the door. Glancing through the peephole that I almost want to kiss in gratefulness for its presence, I see the back of a tall brunette.

Feeling concern rise inside, I pull the door open.

"Sara? What's wrong?"

Turning to face me, Sara takes in my appearance. "I'm sorry I woke you."

I am shaking my head and already stepping out on the porch when I respond, "You didn't. Sara, what's wrong?"

A small smile graces her lips as she exaggeratedly looks me up and down. "I'm sorry I woke you," she purposefully repeats.

Shaking my head, I try to smooth down my hair, "Fine, fine. You woke me up." Waving my free hand in front of my face, I all but glare at her. "Who cares? Now, can you please starting telling me why you are knocking at my door at two in the morning? In case you haven't noticed, I'm starting to freak out here."

Sara all but snorts, "I noticed." Then, her face grows serious again, and my concern rises to match it. "There's nothing wrong, Nancy-"

"Bullshit," I interrupt her, "I know you, Sara, you wouldn't show up here this late if everything was alright."

Sara's eyes narrow slightly, and her hands shove themselves down into the pockets of her maroon Harvard sweatpants. "Nothing is wrong, Nancy. I made a promise to you, and I don't break my promises."

I take a deep breath, sending her a gentle glance to try to smooth over my earlier demanding tone. "No you don't."

Gesturing to her car in the drive, she suddenly finds the darkness surrounding us very interesting. "I, uh, I'm going to Officer Trenton's grave. You said you wanted to come the next time I went, so here I am."

My head tilts to the side, and I'm sure that my eyebrow is raised. "You're going to his grave…now? At 2:30am?"

Sara shrugs. "Well, by the time I get there it will probably be more like 2:37am."

Rolling my eyes, I return my gaze to her. "You know what I meant, smartass."

Nodding, Sara replies, "Yes, I did."

Narrowing my eyes, I look at her closely. I can see that she is becoming a bit uncomfortable under my scrutiny, her hands fiddling with her keys.

"But why now?"

Sara doesn't answer, and I didn't really expect her to.

"It's late. Really late. So I'm guessing that either you couldn't sleep, or you purposely are going late in hopes that I would turn down your offer to go with you, thus getting you off the hook for having to take me along."

Sara is meeting my eyes, but her gaze gives nothing away.

I shrug, "Well, I would put my money on it being a bit of both."

Finally, Sara looks away. "Not that I'm not enjoying the third degree here, but I'm about to leave. You can either come along or stay here."

Deciding to leave her alone about it for now, I push open my front door. "Wait here," I throw over my shoulder as I enter my house. Quickly grabbing a pair of scrub pants off my chair, I throw them on and grab a sweater from the closet to pull over my head. Snagging my house keys, I join Sara back on the porch.

"Ready?"

Sara looks at me, her expression guarded. "Yeah."

I step off the porch and make my way to the car. "Let's go."

* * *

The car ride is silent, and before I know it, Sara is pulling off onto a deserted side road. After a few bumpy miles, she turns onto a dirt road and we make our way to a small clearing. Cutting the engine, I look at her in confusion as I take off my seatbelt.

Seeing my expression, she takes off her own belt. "It's a little way through the trees."

I take a breath, "You're lucky I trust you, otherwise I would be certain you had brought me out here to chop me into little pieces with an ax."

Sara shrugs, "That part comes later. And I prefer to use a cleaver."

I laugh as I open the car door and join Sara out in the brisk night air. "Please tell me you at least brought a coat."

Glancing at me as we start walking down the path, Sara sends me a look. "Can you fight the urge to mother me for just five minutes? Please?"

Looking at her, I finally give in. "Fine, five minutes."

"Thank you."

The rest of our walk is silent, and soon enough we arrive at a rusted iron gate. Looking through the bars, I can see a sparse number of headstones spread across the landscape.

Answering my unspoken question, Sara opens the gate and ushers me in, "It's a family cemetery."

Nodding, I don't prod any further for information. Now isn't the time to satisfy my curiosity.

Sara once again takes the lead, and we come to a stop in front of a fresh headstone along the back fence. I see the name "Tripson Edward Trenton II" inscribed across the granite. Sara reaches down and I am surprised to see her place a small bouquet of wildflowers in the grass. In the darkness of the trees on the way here I didn't notice she was carrying them. Now, in the dim light of the moon, I can see other flowers propped up against the stone, all in varying stages of decay. It's obvious that Sara comes here quite often.

I don't know Sara's stance on spirituality or religion, but I see her bow her head in reflection. Looking at the grave, I feel myself entering my own deep thought. I barely register the sound of thunder rumbling in the distance as my mind wanders.

Before I comprehend the sensation of raindrops falling heavily across my brow, I feel my hands clench tightly at my side.

I hear Sara yelling my name through the now raging storm. "Nancy! We should go, you're going to get drenched out here." I feel the hood of my sweater getting pulled over my hair by the brunette.

Before I know what is coming over me, I push her violently away and step up close to the headstone. "You fucking bastard." My voice sounds foreign to my own ears, the rage morphing it to something unrecognizable.

"Nancy?" Sara's voice is questioning, and she is hovering anxiously behind me.

"You fucking bastard!" I yell louder at the stone. "I wish you had gotten what you deserved before you had the chance to hold your fucking gun to my sister's head. You almost took my only sister from me, my only real family, you piece of shit. People come here and mourn you? What a fucking joke! People should mourn your pathetic excuse for a life, and _celebrate_ your death. I hope your wife and child enjoy the legacy you left them. Way to step up and be a father, asshole. You destroyed their lives, and you almost destroyed mine. I wish you were still alive so I could put you in the ground myself for crossing my family! Fuck you, you selfish bastard! See you in hell…"

Turning, my rage quickly evolves to anguish, my legs giving out as gut wrenching sobs claim me. I feel Sara's arms enfold me, and I clench her shirt in my hands desperately as we kneel in the soggy ground.

My screams of torment mix with the flashing lightning and piercing thunder. Sara holds me tighter, ignoring my fist as it pounds desperately against her chest. Her hand is running through my hair, and she is rocking me back and forth. No longer able to tell which of the moisture running down my cheeks is rain versus tears, I bury my head in Sara's neck.

Holding me awhile longer, Sara finally pulls slightly away after I have calmed a bit so she can look me in the eye. "You alright?"

Nodding my head, I grip her cheek in my hand. "Yeah, I'm sorry, Sar. I don't know what came over me."

Sara shakes her head, "You don't have to apologize. I was selfish in letting you come here. I didn't even think of how hard this would be for you." Her eyes glance away into the distance, rain pouring off her long lashes.

"Trust me, Sara, it caught me off guard as well. I didn't realize I was holding that in all this time."

Sara nods, "You feel better?"

Smiling slightly, I take a deep breath. "Yeah, actually I do."

"Good."

We stay like that a bit longer, huddled together in the driving rain. Eventually, Sara stands and pulls me to my feet. "I think we should head back and get you into some dry clothing, you're shaking."

Pulling my arms tightly around myself, I eagerly begin walking back toward the car with her. "So are you, Sara."

Closing her eyes, Sara has a slight smirk across her lips.

I chuckle at her expression, "What? Your five minutes were more than up."

* * *

CATHERINE POV

Hearing Sara's car pull into the drive, I quickly wipe the tears from my face and attempt to relax my body. The front door opens slowly, and Sara tries to be quiet as she enters our room. Glancing at the clock, I see that it's nearly four in the morning.

Sara must have seen that my eyes were open, and she pauses on her way into the bathroom. "Sorry I woke you."

I take a calming breath. "You didn't."

Apparently it wasn't calming enough. "You okay, Cath? You sound like you've been crying."

Her voice is thick with concern, and I curse myself for not just pretending to be asleep when she came in.

"Cath? Talk to me, honey."

She approaches the side of the bed, kneeling to meet my eyes.

"It's stupid, Sara, really. You need to get back in bed and get some decent sleep before shift, you don't need me complaining about childish things."

"Catherine."

Her tone says it all.

"Fine," I state, "I don't like storms." There is a pause. "See, I told you it was really dumb."

"Since when?"

There is no way I can give a truthful answer to that question, not tonight. "For awhile."

Sara nods, recognizing the need for her to back off about the details. "I'm sorry I left you alone during it."

I reach out to touch her, "You had no way of predicting the weather, Sar. And I'm a big girl, I can handle it." Making contact with her cheek, the coldness of her skin shocks me. Reaching out further, my hand makes contact with her hair. It's drenched.

"My God, Sara. You're soaking wet. Were you out in the storm this whole time?"

Sara lets out a breath. "Something like that."

It's obvious that she also does not want to go into details right now. "Go take a warm shower, then get your ass in bed with me."

Sara smiles, getting up and heading into the bathroom without a word. Hearing the water running, I shake my head. Leave it to Sara to spend her night standing out in the middle of a thunderstorm.

Shortly after, I hear the water shut off and Sara makes her way into the room, crawling into the covers beside me. Mesa lets out a yawn as he hops off the bed to give her back her space, trotting back out into the livingroom. Wrapping my arms around her, Sara turns towards me and puts her own arm protectively around my back. Our legs entwine themselves automatically, our bodies fitting together perfectly. Sara rests her chin atop my head, and I can feel her take a deep breath. Once I feel her body start to relax against mine, I follow suit. Soon enough, we are both drifting off to sleep.

If only we had more than three hours to enjoy it.

* * *

**AN: Thanks for reading, let me know your thoughts.**


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: Sorry about the amount of time between updates. I have no excuses worth giving. Hope you are all still enjoying the story and all is well with everyone.**

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* * *

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NANCY POV

Entering the staff room in the hospital, I gratefully plop myself down on the worn couch after grabbing my apple and water bottle from the fridge. Biting into its utter deliciousness, I cringe as my cell starts to vibrate. Checking the caller ID, I am surprised to see "Goddess Sidle" displayed across the screen. Silently vowing to never let Sara near my phone again, I flip it open while swallowing my current bite of apple.

"Hey, Sar."

I hear mumbling on the other end, and then her voice is clear, "Hey, Nancy, sorry. You busy right now?"

Taking another bite of my apple and not caring that I am chewing in her ear, I respond cheerfully, "Nope, just got on break, actually. So this is a welcome distraction from the day."

"Oh, alright. Good." There is a slight pause. "I just wanted to see how you were doing after last night."

Her voice is tentative.

"I'm fine, Sara, really. I feel better than I have in weeks. It's amazing how cathartic it is to scream your guts out at a dead man in the middle of a cemetery at three in the morning."

I hear Sara snort. "Yeah, somehow that particular form of therapy is horrifically under advertised."

I laugh myself, "Perhaps we can start a trend." I pause, getting serious. "How are _you_ doing with everything? I didn't mean to bring so much of my baggage last night."

"No, don't worry about it. That's actually the second reason I am calling. I want to thank you."

She is quiet, and I am confused.

"For…"

I hear her take a breath. "For opening my eyes. All this time, I have been beating myself up for taking his life away from him. I never allowed myself to feel the intense anger I really had towards him for almost taking my life away from _me_."

I know Sara is referring to Catherine when she says her life was almost taken from her.

She continues before I can reply. "I was so angry at myself. But I was also ashamed of the anger I felt towards him and his shitty decisions. I didn't think the person who takes a life had the right to feel negatively about the person they killed." She takes a deep breath. "I think seeing your reaction really helped me feel justified and validated in my anger." Another deep breath, and then a sigh. "He almost killed her, Nancy."

I can hear the emotion in her voice, and my own voice gets heavy with my own. "I know."

There is a pause. "I still feel bad about ending a life, but I think for the first time I am starting to feel fortunate and justified about having been there in time to protect hers."

I nod my head even though I know she cannot see me. "You know how I feel about it, Sara. I don't see it as anything other than you saving a life that day. And that life you saved was my sister's, making me eternally grateful to you. I wish it wasn't you that had to pull the trigger that day, but never for one moment do I lament the fact that it was, indeed, pulled."

Sara's voice is quiet. "Yeah, I think I am starting to get that now as well. Anyway, I just wanted to thank you."

I can't help but smile. "You don't have to thank me, but you're welcome." I am glad that Sara is finally starting to let go of some of the guilt she has obviously been struggling with all these months. There is still one issue on the table, though. "Have you told Catherine about visiting his grave?"

The silence tells me everything I need to know even before the husky "No" makes its way across the line.

"You should really talk to her, Sara."

I can hear her let out a sigh. "I know. And I will, soon. This just isn't the right time, not while this case is going on. She already has too much on her mind without adding this to the mix."

Knowing Sara is an adult who can make her own decisions, I leave the ball in her court. "Alright, just be sure it's sooner rather than later."

"I know."

I hear a voice enter the background, and Sara covers the phone to respond. Returning, her voice sounds stressed. "I have to go, Nancy. But thanks for the talk, and tell Chris I'll call him later about a time for Saturday."

"Sure thing, and thanks to you as well, Sara. Take care."

"You too, bye."

"Bye."

Snapping my phone shut, I look at it for a minute. Deciding not to delve too far into my feelings about my friendship with Sara, I quickly finish the rest of my apple and throw the core in the trash. I decide to settle on simply feeling grateful, grateful and so very very lucky.

* * *

CATHERINE POV

Entering the lab Sara is working in, I see that she is on the phone. I quickly tell her I need to talk to her and she lets me know she'll be there in a minute.

I head to the breakroom and place my papers down on the table, Sara joining me less than a minute later.

"Hey, you needed me?"

I turn to face her, "Who was that on the phone?"

Sara looks confused for a second. "Nancy…"

I nod slowly, "And was she helping you with our case?"

I see the hurt instantly flash through her eyes, and I immediately regret my words. Sara was already dressed for work and reading the case file in bed when I woke up this morning. If anyone deserves a break, it's her.

My eyes close, and I run my hand through my hair. "I'm sorry, Sara. That wasn't anywhere near fair."

I hear her move, and open my eyes to see her pour herself some coffee. "It's fine."

From her voice I can tell that it's not fine. At least not yet.

"Sara, really. I'm sorry."

She finally looks at me, and her eyes are unreadable. "Catherine, it's fine. It's not the first, and it certainly isn't going to be the last, stupid thing we say to each other. Just forget it." She takes a sip of her coffee and grimaces at its flavor.

"Now, what did you need to talk to me about?" she asks while dumping some cream into her cup.

I sigh. "We have another scene."

Her head instantly whips to mine. Her question isn't voiced, but it doesn't have to be.

"Yes, it's the Vergenson case."

Her tone is tightly controlled. "Of course it is."

* * *

Heading to the locker room, I grab a jacket from my locker and swap out my shoes. Reaching into Sara's on my way out, I grab her sweater in case she needs it later. Exiting out into the hall, I see the brunette holding two cups of coffee, waiting for me.

We enter the garage together and climb silently into her Tahoe. Throwing our clothing into the back, I take my coffee from Sara.

"It tastes like crap, so I added a bunch of cream and sugar to yours."

I smile, taking a hesitant sip. She's right, this coffee tastes like sludge. I can only imagine how bad it would taste without the dilutions.

"Is it alright?" Her voice is concerned, and I can't help but smile at the fact that she still gets nervous about pleasing me. People say that when couples date for awhile and move in together, they eventually grow apathetic and indifferent to one another. Thankfully, that has never come close to being an issue for us – at least not yet.

"It's great, Sara, thank you."

She nods, and we make our way silently to the scene. Her hands are gripping the wheel tightly, and her jaw is set. Her eyes are hidden by her sunglasses, but I'm sure they would be guarded as well.

I sigh to myself, I can't wait until this awful case is finally over. It's slowly beginning to destroy both of us.

Pulling up to the scene, this setting is a 180 degree turn from the last. While the last scene was a deserted farm, this is an affluent house in Henderson. Concerned neighbors have already gathered along the crime scene tape, stretching their necks to catch a glimpse of the macabre action going on inside. Sara flashes the lights of the Tahoe, alerting the line of reporters to let us through. Putting the car in park, we take a breath in unison.

"Here we go again," Sara mutters mostly to herself.

Grabbing our kits from the back, I notice that there are a large amount of officers loitering around the front door. I get the sinking feeling that this scene will be perhaps even more gruesome than the last judging by their expressions.

Sara searches out Jim and approaches his location. He shakes his head as we near, "This is one you are just going to have to see for yourselves."

Knitting her brows, Sara turns and heads straight towards the house, disappearing through the door without a moment's hesitation. I take a second to prepare myself, and Jim gives me a reassuring pat on the shoulder. Sending him a grateful smile, I bolster my courage and follow Sara's path.

The house is bright; all the lights have been turned on. Part of me wishes this scene was as dim as the last one, some details are best left unseen.

Looking around the lower level, it appears deserted and undisturbed. Seeing the grand staircase to my right, I slowly ascend the neatly polished steps. Quickly looking in the rooms as I pass them, I am confused that there appear to be no bodies. Approaching the master bedroom at the end of the hall, I see Sara's back as she stares at something in the room.

Entering, I feel my kit drop to the floor, the clattering causing Sara to flinch but she remains otherwise still. We both gawk at the scene in front of us, our eyes trying to comprehend the sight.

There are five bodies lined up against the back wall, propped up into sitting positions. They are lined up from oldest to youngest, the dad on the left, a little boy no older than six on the far right. At first the lack of dismemberment strikes me as odd, but then I take a closer look at their faces. Their eye sockets are empty, their mouths are hanging open grotesquely. I take a half step towards them, brushing Sara's shoulder as I move past her. Looking at the oldest boy, a young man about seventeen years old, his short haircut reveals that his ears are missing. Looking at the other bodies, it would appear that theirs are also gone.

"Sara…their eyes and their ears…"

I don't have the ability to form a complete sentence at this point in time.

Sara's voice is strained, but strangely vacant. "I know, and their tongues."

Forcing my eyes away from the bodies, I face Sara, "How do you…"

Sara cuts off my question, pointing absently to her left, her eyes still glued on the bodies. Following her finger, I see a master bath. Stepping to the doorway, the first thing I see are five sets of eyes lined up along the edge of the tub. Putting my hand over my mouth, I look further into the room, noticing now the other missing body parts also occupying the room. I stumble from the doorframe as turn away in haste.

My eyes meet Sara's, and she gestures to the window along the side wall that is propped wide open. Taking the suggestion, I quickly make my way over and stick my head out into the fresh air. Taking a deep and anguished breath, I let the breeze wash over me. After a moment, I begin to breathe regularly again, glancing down to the front yard. One of the young deputies is looking up at me, but instead of mockery, I see sympathy in his eyes. He sends me a nod and puts his fist over his heart. I in turn put my hand over my own heart, letting him know his sentiment is understood and appreciated. Nodding, he turns away, giving me my privacy.

Finally collecting myself enough to face the room again, I find Sara still staring at the bodies with a dark expression on her face. Without a word, she holds out her hand. I see a folded piece of cloth in her grip, and I take it from her with curiosity. "I found it on the shower head," is her only explanation.

Opening the material, I see that it is a pillowcase. Written on it in what I assume to be blood is a neatly scrawled message.

'_The whispering of the wind is the pleas of the dead, licking at your ears as they watch you from the shadows. I think it's time to answer them, don't you?'_

I shake my head. "I guess this explains the eyes, ears, and tongues being removed and placed on display."

Sara nods, "My thoughts exactly."

Quirking her eyebrow, her eyes finally move from the bodies to the bed. Slowly approaching it, she looks it over closely. Getting to her knees, she glances underneath. I hear her let out a sigh as she clicks on her flashlight.

"There's another coded message written on the bottom side of the bed," she states.

Handing her my camera, she takes a multitude of shots before standing back up.

"I guess we should get working, then," she says matter-of-fact. Her expression is hard to read, so I simply take back my camera and move towards the bathroom to begin the gruesome task ahead.

* * *

Nearly five hours later, we are headed back to the lab. Evidence again was sparse despite our meticulous search, and only the one coded message under the bed was uncovered this time. The messages being left upstairs and one written in a decipherable manner were changes in MO; hopefully it will lead us somewhere useful.

Pulling into the lab, I reach over and grasp Sara's hand tightly. She sends me a knowing look, and rubs her thumb over my fingers to calm me down. Despite her strong façade, she looked so exhausted at the end of processing the scene that I insisted on driving us back. Seeing the weary expression buried deep in her eyes now, I am glad that I did.

She gives me a brief smile, drawing determination and resolve from the profound well of strength she somehow always possesses. Gesturing to the lab, she asks, "You ready to head in?"

I sigh, finally releasing her comforting hand. "Yup."

Grabbing our evidence, we drop it all off at its proper locations, heading to the morgue to meet with Doc Robbins. As we turn down the lab hallway, a woman walking swiftly towards us from the reception area catches my attention. Her stride is purposeful, and she has her eyes locked on Sara. For some reason, the small child on her arm and her curly auburn hair strikes something in my memory. I feel like I should know who this woman is.

Sara turns, immediately taking a guarded step back when she sees the woman, who is now practically in her face, for the first time.

"Sara Sidle?"

Sara's brow furrows, and she uncertainly answers, "Yes?"

Before I know what is happening, the woman reaches across with her free hand and slaps Sara violently across the face. I am about to step in when Sara holds her hand out, clearly indicating for me to stay back.

The woman practically spits her words as she steps even further into Sara's personal space. "I have been visiting my husband's grave every day since he was killed. Imagine my pleasant surprise when I see that someone has been leaving fresh flowers frequently at his gravesite. I thought it was a member of the police force, or someone in my family since he was buried in our private cemetery. But, no, that wasn't the case at all. My pleasant surprise quickly became utter disgust when I caught site of the mysterious visitor late last night when I couldn't sleep. I was not able to hear or see much because of the storm, but it was obvious that standing atop his grave with some other woman was the skinny bitch that drove a bullet through his head and put him in the ground."

Her eyes grow cold as stone, "Did you think I didn't know who you were, Miss Sidle? That your face hasn't been burned into my memory since the day I got the news that my baby boy no longer had a father?"

Sara remains stoic, but her coloring has gone pale, her jaw clenched.

"What made you think you had any right showing up there? Answer me, damn it!"

Sara stands motionless, her eyes flashing. "I'm sor-"

The woman reaches out and slaps Sara again, causing the brunette to take a step to the side to keep her balance. "Don't you dare! Don't you dare tell me how 'sorry' you are!"

Instantly, the woman's child begins to wail against her chest.

I take a step forward, refusing to let this woman continue to assault the woman I love. Sara shakes her head at me, and I hesitate. Fortunately, my movement was enough to break the moment, however. The woman, who I now know is Mrs. Trenton, seems to come to her senses and her anger morphs into revulsion. Her free hand is shaking violently as she places it over her mouth in shock at what she has just done.

She mutters something unintelligible, then quickly turns on her heel and exits the lab as hurriedly as she had entered it, the screams of her child trailing after her.

Sara watches her leave, never taking her eyes off her retreating form.

Once the woman is out of sight, I place my hand on Sara's shoulder, cringing as I feel her tense. My voice is thick with concern, "Sara, are you alright?"

She doesn't seem to give her answer much thought as she absently mutters, "I'm fine."

Turning her head towards me with my hand gripping her jaw, I take a look at her left cheek. The skin is red with finger marks clearly visible and a slight abrasion travels the length of her cheekbone where the woman's ring made contact with her skin. Her eye on that side is beginning to water from the sting.

Sara's gaze is actively avoiding mine, and she pulls out of my grasp.

A moment later, seeing my hurt expression, she pinches the bridge of her nose. "I'm sorry, Catherine, but I can't do this right now. Can we please go and talk with Doc Robbins?"

Her eyes are pleading, her body language tense and stiff, expression dark.

I nod, and she starts to turn away. Grabbing her by the arm, I turn her back around. "We are going to talk about this later, though, Sara."

She closes her eyes for a brief moment before meeting my gaze with her own fiery hazel one. "Fine."

Reaching up, I place my hand gently across her good cheek. "Alright."

Taking my hands off her, I lead the way towards the morgue. My own head is spinning with questions. Namely, why had Sara been going to Officer Trenton's grave, and more importantly, why hadn't she told me? And of course, who was the woman that Sara was with? I know now isn't the time to be preoccupied, but I'll be damned if I'm able to push the questions far from my consciousness. Sara is a private person, I get that. But I thought that she had been getting better about letting me in since we became a couple. Now I'm not so sure.

Pushing through the doors of the morgue, I turn towards Doc Robbins. "What have you got for us?"

He turns, shooting us both a quick smile. His gaze lingers a bit longer on Sara, and I have no doubt that he has noticed the marks marring her cheek. Wisely, though, he doesn't comment.

"Well, this one is a bit different. All the mutilations to the bodies were performed postmortem. However, cause of death was a severing of the femoral artery since there were no dismemberments extensive enough to kill them performed."

He points out the puncture wounds on the upper thighs of each of the victims, and it looks like a long, thin instrument was used to penetrate the artery.

Sara leans against the examination table. "If their femoral arteries were severed, why wasn't there more blood at the scene?"

Doc sends us a look that clearly states, 'That's your job.'

Her expression changing as she looks from one body to another, Sara crosses her arms across her chest. "Unless, the instrument he used to sever the artery was also used to collect the blood to write his messages with."

I cross my own arms against the chill of the room. "You mean like a syringe?"

Sara nods absently, "Yeah, but bigger. Almost like a pipette of sorts."

I glance at Doc Robbins, who simply shrugs. "It's possible."

"Alright, that's something at least. Anything else you have for us, Doc?" I ask.

He shakes his head, "Afraid not."

Sara and I start to head for the door with a "Thanks" when he calls us back.

"Ladies? I just want to say, I'm looking forward to the day when these families stop making their way onto my tables."

His eyes are clouded, and for the first time I am beginning to realize that this case is taking its toll on more than just me and Sara.

We nod our heads, and Sara states bleakly, "We all look forward to that day, Doc."

* * *

The rest of shift is spent reviewing all the previous evidence together with what we have gathered today. Sara is once again poring over the coded messages, still trying to find a break in the case. I am currently combing through the clothing of the victims but am, not surprisingly, coming up empty.

Throwing my magnifying glass down on the table in frustration, I return the evidence to their bags and rip the gloves from my fingers. Sara looks up at me curiously from her corner in the room.

"You okay, Cath?"

I push the evidence box away from me, placing my hands flat on the cool surface of the table. "I am nowhere remotely close to 'okay'."

Closing the case file she was working with, Sara stands and makes her way to my side. "Let's go home."

Looking at her dubiously, I gesture to the abandoned evidence box. "But we have made absolutely no progress."

Sara snorts, "Yeah, I noticed. But I have also noticed that shift ended two hours ago and we are both running on empty. No offense, but you look like hell, Catherine, you need a break from all of this. Please."

I remain staring at her.

Eventually, she all but rolls her eyes at me.

"Come on, Cath. We can go get Mesa and head to the overlook to watch the sunset."

Although her idea sounds like heaven, I still don't know whether to accept. I am acting supervisor, it's my job to ensure that cases get closed and criminals get put away.

"We can even, you know, 'talk' while we are there if you want," Sara says reluctantly, effectively playing her trump card.

I sigh, "Fine, fine, you win. Let's get out of here."

She nods in relief, placing the case file on top of the evidence box and picking both up in her arms.

As I follow her out of the room, I shake my head in disbelief. "Who would ever believe me if I told them Sara Sidle was the one chasing someone out of the lab instead of the other way around."

Sara snorts, "No one, so don't even try it." Turning her head, she sends me her best glare. "I can't have people thinking I've gone soft."

* * *

Pulling the Tahoe into a spot atop the deserted trail, Sara opens the back door to let Mesa out. He eagerly lopes to the edge of the overlook, staring down into the canyon. I grab the blanket from the back and lay it down some ways back from the edge. Sara meets me there, placing our thermos and the sandwiches we packed upon the soft material.

Standing, Sara wipes her hands on her jeans, joining Mesa close to the edge. _Very_ close to the edge.

Approaching her, I scuff my feet so she knows I am coming to prevent the chance that I spook her enough to send her plummeting to her death. Standing behind her, I grab her belt along the back of her jeans.

Turning her head towards me, Sara quirks an eyebrow.

"You know I hate it when you stand so close to the edge. This way if you slip, I at least have a slight chance of saving your sorry ass."

Sara's other eyebrow joins the first, and she turns to face me so that her back is now to the drop off – forcing me to let go of her.

"Does it really make you that nervous?" she asks. And then, she takes a step backwards, leaving mere inches between her and the canyon below.

Instantly, my hand reacts by once again grabbing her belt, this time along the front of her hip. "Sara! I am going to kill you…_please_ get away from there."

Closing her eyes, she outstretches her arms and throws her head back, "It makes me feel alive."

My voice has reached a pitch it hasn't been at since the third grade. "Yeah, until you go splat! And then I would imagine you would feel very very dead!"

Without opening her eyes, Sara reaches down and pries my hand from her belt. Holding it in hers, she places our joined hands above her heart. Despite the material of her shirt, I can feel her heart racing.

I shake my head, "Well, I'm glad the thought of plummeting off a cliff excites you…"

Sara snaps opens her eyes, locking them on mine. After a moment, she leans in and kisses me. Our mouths dueling with one another, I am aware that her heart beat has now picked up to a thunderous pace.

Pulling away, Sara returns her gaze to mine. "_You_ excite me."

I feel my cheeks blushing, "Apparently."

Sara grins, "You want to go eat now?"

I chuckle and shake my head, "Yes, please. Nothing like near death experiences to whet my appetite."

Placing her hands on my shoulders, Sara directs me back to the blanket. "I'm going to get you to that edge someday," she whispers in my ear seductively from behind.

"Oh, Sara," I say as I turn my head into her neck, "you already have."

* * *

Finishing the last of my peanut butter and jelly sandwich, I lay back on the blanket. Sara has already finished and is gazing out at the lowering sun with Mesa at her feet. The sunset is casting the landscape in hues of orange and gold, making everything glitter in brilliance.

"Sara?"

Immediately, she turns to me. "Yeah?"

"Come here, babe."

A slight smile graces her lips as she moves her body closer to mine. When she is within reach, I wrap my arms around her. Her head finds its way onto my shoulder, and I lay us both down on the blanket, never taking our eyes off the setting sun. I cradle her head to me, running my fingers gently through her hair. I smile as I see her eyes slowly drift close, her body gradually losing its rigidity.

Just when I think she may have actually fallen asleep for once, she drags her eyes open and fixes them up at me. "We should talk, Cath."

I sigh, reluctant to wreck the moment, but grateful that Sara is not running away from the issue.

"Yeah, we should." My eyes unconsciously move to view the scrape and slight discoloration on her left cheek.

Sara looks back toward the sunset, taking a breath. "I've been going to Officer Trenton's grave."

I understand that this is Sara's way of opening the conversation, and I am more than willing pick up the baton and run with it.

"For how long?"

"I started going about a month after he was buried." Her voice grows low, "I never meant for his wife to find me, I can't imagine how upsetting that must have been for her seeing me there."

"Sara…"

She cuts me off, "No, I was being selfish. I was going there to alleviate my own guilt, not for the purpose of honoring his memory. I should never have stepped foot in that family's private space."

I look at her sternly, "Maybe, but regardless, that woman had no right to lay her hands on you, Sara."

"I know," she says, her tone unreadable.

"Do you really? Because today it seemed like you were more than willing to stand there and take her abuse."

I am frustrated that anyone dared to hurt Sara, but I am also frustrated that she made absolutely no move to stop it. I know her past likely has a lot to do with her reaction, or lack thereof, but I hope that someday Sara will realize that she deserves so much better.

"She's still grieving, Cath. She needed an outlet."

My voice sounds harsher than I intend it to, "Then she should join a gym instead of going around hitting the woman I love."

Sara looks up at me, taking in my angered expression. "I'm sorry."

I take a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down. "I'm not mad at you, Sar, I'm mad at the situation. Why didn't you tell me you were going there?"

Her eyes go back to the sun, which has now nearly disappeared across the horizon. "I honestly don't know. It's not that I thought you would be mad about it or anything. I guess I just didn't want you to worry since I didn't think there was anything worth worrying about." Her eyes return to mine. "I know that you thought I was past the events of that day, and I guess I wanted you to keep thinking that and not trouble the waters."

I continue my stroking of her dark hair, my fingers gliding easily through the silky strands. "Well, now that the cat's out of the bag, how are you really doing with it all?"

Her voice is earnest, "I thought I was fine from the beginning, Cath, honestly. Now I can see that I wasn't doing as well with it as I tried so hard to convince myself I was. Now? Now I feel like I am truly headed towards resolution with it all."

My fingers still, "Really?"

Her expression doesn't change. "Really."

I nod, "Alright, but you have to promise me that if you continue to have issues you will tell me. I know you try really hard not to need anything from anyone, but sometimes I need you to need _me_. You're my lover, my best friend, my soulmate – we're in this together. You have to let me carry some of the bourdon every now and then, okay?"

Sara's eyes narrow. "But you have your own bourdons already, Catherine."

I shake my head, "Bourdons which you help me with every day, Sara. All I am asking is that you let me return the favor from time to time. You're independent, I get that. But I really need to feel like I can take care of you, that you actually _need_ me every once in awhile."

Looking up, Sara appears confused. "I'll always need you, Cath."

I smile down at her, caressing her cheek softly. "I hear you say that, but how about you work on showingit. I'm one of those 'see it to believe it' people."

Sara's eyes seem to relax a bit. "I'll try to work on it."

"An honest effort is all I ask."

Sara nods, looking up at the now night sky.

"Sara?"

Her eyes return to mine.

"Can I ask you one last thing?"

"Of course."

"Who was the woman that Mrs. Trenton mentioned you were at the cemetery with?"

Sara grins slightly, "My other girlfriend. She's kind of kinky, likes it when I make love to her atop the headstones."

I can't help but laugh, tugging on a piece of her hair. "Sounds romantic."

She snorts, shaking her head. "You have no idea." Her eyes return to mine, likely trying to gauge my reaction when she states, "It was Nancy."

I feel my body stiffen, and Sara's body immediately mimics the action. I keep my hand in her hair to reassure her as I take a moment to process the information. Part of me is hurt that my sister had access to this part of Sara's life while I did not, but another part of me is just glad that Sara at least had someone aware of what she was going through. It makes me want to have a bit of a discussion with my sister, though.

"Okay."

Sara seems tentative, "Okay? That's it?"

I shrug, "Yeah, that's it." Then, to lighten the mood, "I should have guessed it was her from the moment you mentioned the person's headstone fetish."

Chuckling, Sara turns her eyes back to the sky, which is now flooded with stars. "Yes, you should have, that was a _dead_ giveaway."

Rolling my eyes at her corny pun, I turn my gaze to the cosmos as well.

Laying there with Sara cradled in my arms, I finally feel myself gaining some much needed distance from the Vergenson case. Out here in the desert, the grotesque scenes seem like they are almost from another life entirely.

Surely, the evils of that world cannot coexist with the beauty of this one.

Closing my eyes, I breathe in the scent of Sara's hair, resting my chin atop her head. Lying like that for an undeterminable amount of time, I place a gentle kiss into her dark tresses.

"I love you, Sara Caelem Sidle," I whisper into the night air.

Furrowing my brow when I do not get a response, I look down at my dark companion. Her eyes are closed and her breathing is deep and steady.

I smile as I discover that Sara has actually fallen asleep in my arms.

* * *

**AN: Thanks for reading.**


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: Sorry sorry sorry. Sorry. It's back. I'm back. Here's the next chapter for those of you out there who are still interested :) Hope all is well with everyone. And my apologies to those who asked in previous reviews if Lindsey or Jeremy were going to be in this story - they are not in this story. Perhaps, if I write more stories in the future, I will include them in those.**

**As always, thank you for reading.**

* * *

Pulling into our drive after Sara and I's talk in the desert, the sound of the engine is immediately replaced by the chirping of cicadas as I pull the keys from the ignition. Turning to the backseat, I am surprised that Sara still has not budged from where I laid her in the back. Always the light sleeper, I usually end up waking her from a rare nap simply by entering the room.

Just as I am debating the best way to get Sara inside, headlights flash across the drive. Recognizing Nancy's car, I approach where she has parked behind the Tahoe.

Seeing me, she exits the vehicle and raises her brows, "Perfect timing, apparently."

Nodding, I send her a smile, "Looks like it. What's up?"

Playfully ruffling my hair, Nancy sends me a devilish grin. "What's wrong, can't a girl just visit her sister?"

Grabbing her hand in mine, I playfully hold it hostage. "She can, but she doesn't," I say while sending a knowing look her way.

Nancy pokes me in the side until I am forced to release her hand. "Fine, whatever. I actually came by to talk to you about Saturday. Sara is taking Chris climbing in the morning, and I was wondering if we could have a sister bonding day?"

I quirk a brow, "A 'sister bonding day'? What the hell is that?"

Nancy laughs, "Oh, come on. You remember when we used to sneak into the movies or go smoke pot out by Lake Mead…"

"Nancy!" I chastise her, "I don't know what you are talking about…I would never participate in such illegal activities with my young and impressionable sister."

Nancy is smirking gleefully at me, "Right. Don't worry, I won't tattle on you to Dr. Grissom or anything. But really, I just thought it would be a good opportunity to have a day to ourselves – it's been awhile to say the least."

"I don't know Nancy," I hedge, "we have a lot of stuff to get done at the lab. With Sara gone –"

Nancy clamps her hand over my mouth. "I didn't want to have to play this card, but you need a day off. You look like shit, sis."

I snort and pry her hand off my face, "Gee, thanks." I shake my head in defeat. "Fine, I'll see what I can do."

Nancy's smile is ear to ear. "That's all I ask."

My sister turns to leave, but I quickly grab her arm. "Hey, can you help me with something real quick?"

Nancy shrugs, "Sure."

Leading her to the Tahoe, I open the back seat quietly. Gesturing towards Sara's body sprawled across the backseat, I whisper, "You think you could help me get her inside?"

Nancy's brows rise almost to her hairline.

"Oh my God, what did you do to her?" she asks in an animated whisper of her own.

I cross my arms across my chest and glare at her, "She's asleep, Nancy, I didn't do anything."

Nancy looks at me dubiously, "Sara Sidle, the girl who makes insomniacs look like narcoleptics, the girl who wakes up if you breathe the wrong way, is sound asleep in the back of your car?"

I gesture with exaggeration towards the brunette, "It would certainly appear so, now wouldn't it."

Nancy shakes her head with a sigh, "Well this is undoubtedly an odd site. I'm almost tempted to take pictures just to convince myself it really happened."

I shrug, "Well, when she wakes up and exacts revenge upon you, don't come crying to me."

Nancy seems to pause, "Good point."

Stepping closer to the car, she gestures inside. "So how do we do this?"

I lean into the Tahoe a bit, "If I pull her out from under her arms, you think you can get your arms under her well enough to carry her inside?"

Nodding, Nancy responds, "Yeah, let's try."

Reaching in, I thread my arms under Sara's shoulders. Surprisingly, Sara still does not move or stir in any way. Pulling her slowly out, Nancy gently places her arm under Sara's back, and then places her second one under Sara's knees once she is out of the car far enough.

I close the door quietly while Nancy waits for me with Sara hanging lifelessly in her arms.

"You okay?" I whisper to her. "She's not too heavy for you, is she? She seemed easy enough to handle when I got her in the car before…"

Nancy all but rolls her eyes. "I feel like I am carrying a load of laundry or something. You really should start sneaking some lard into her cereal."

I can't help but cringe at the thought.

Nancy's face grows a bit serious as we make our way to the front door. "Honestly though, Cath, she is actually eating, right? I have cancer patients going through chemo that are heavier than her."

Unlocking the door, I gesture my sister inside ahead of me. Turning on the lights, I nod my head. "Yeah, of course she eats. She's always been thin, you know that."

Seeming a bit pensive, Nancy is obviously deciding whether or not to press the issue. Apparently deciding against it, Nancy sighs. "Alright."

Her tone clearly indicates, however, that she is not pleased with the situation.

Entering our room, I pull the covers down on Sara's side of the bed and gesture for Nancy to lay her down. After doing so, we each take a shoe to pull off. Deciding to let Sara keep her dignity, I don't take off her jeans and simply place the covers over her.

Nancy glances at me, "She's really out of it, isn't she?"

Nodding, I move to turn off the lights, "It's been a rough week."

Just as I am about the flip the switch, Nancy's voice stops my motion.

"Catherine…"

Her tone scares me, and I immediately turn to face her. Her eyes are locked on Sara and her body is tense.

Before I can ask her what's wrong, her voice cuts the silence.

"What the hell happened to her face? It looks like someone hit her."

I take a breath. I had been hoping to avoid this particular revelation tonight. Not to mention the fact that I know Sara is going to be pissed about Nancy learning about her encounter at the lab.

Turning off the lights, I whisper to Nancy in the darkness, "Let's take this to the other room."

I hear more than see Nancy follow me out. Grabbing a water bottle from the fridge, I toss one to my sister as she stands anxiously near the couch. Joining her, I look her in the eyes to see her reaction.

"Mrs. Trenton paid a visit to the lab this afternoon."

Nancy's face grows puzzled, and then pale.

"No…"

I nod my head, "Yup. She caught Sara at the cemetery last night."

Nancy cringes, pinching the bridge of her nose with her free hand. "Shit."

My voice is hard, "You should have told me, Nancy."

Nancy removes her hand from her face, her voice as hard as mine. "It wasn't my place to tell."

I scoff, "There's a fine line between honoring a friendship and neglecting to share information when someone needs help."

Nancy's jaw tenses. "If you think for one moment I would ever sit by and watch if Sara was in real trouble, you are nuts. If Sara's health was in danger, I would have told you immediately."

I shake my head in anger, "I guess her emotional health doesn't count then."

Eyes flashing, Nancy steps closer to me, "That's crap, and you know it. I only found out about it recently, and she promised me that she would tell you. You know how Sara is, she tells both of us the absolute minimum about everything, and even that would go away if we started blabbing to each other every time she opened up to one of us. I needed to give her time to talk with you about this on her own, Cath."

I take a calming breath, knowing in my heart that Nancy would never put anything before Sara's wellbeing.

"You're right, Nancy. I'm sorry." I shake my head at myself.

Nancy's face takes on a softer expression and she steps close enough to me to put a gentle hand on my arm. "What's really bothering you?"

I laugh quietly at my sister's ability to read me so accurately. Turning my eyes downward, I study my water bottle, watching the way the moisture in the air condenses along the cold plastic.

"She's been going there for nearly a year. A _year_, Nancy. How could I have been so blind to have missed it all this time?" I scoff, "Not to mention, what else is she hiding from me?"

Nancy's hold on my arm gets tighter. "First off, you and I both know that unless Sara wants you to know something, you're going to have a heck of a time putting enough clues together to figure it out on your own. That girl has about fifty eight different walls to hide things behind." She gives me a stern look, "As for the second question, I don't think for a moment you really believe Sara would sneak around hiding all sorts of things from you. She may keep things from you out of an odd attempt at protecting you, but she would never betray your trust, Cat."

Nodding my head, I have now found the carpeting particularly enthralling. "That's what she told me."

Finally looking at my sister, I see confusion in her eyes.

"She said that she didn't tell me because she didn't want to worry me, burden me," I elaborate.

My sister remains silent, encouraging me to continue. "I don't think that she understands that I want her to burden me, I want her to let me help. We're a couple, we should be going through things together. I just hate feeling so useless."

Nodding, my sister asks quietly, "Did you tell her that?"

I let out a breath, "Yeah, I tried."

My sister again waits for my elaboration, raising her eyebrows in question.

"She said she would work on it."

Squeezing my arm, Nancy gives me a light shake. "There you go, then. Don't expect her to change overnight, Cath, but something tells me Sara Sidle will try her damndest to do anything you ask of her."

Bowing my head once again, I close my eyes. "I know."

Nancy pulls her hand away and she grows silent. Eventually looking up, I see that she is looking at me intently. I can tell that there is something she wants to ask, but is hesitant to give it a voice.

I roll my eyes. "Just spit it out, sis."

Nancy looks away, playing with the label on her water bottle. "What did Mrs. Trenton say to her?"

I immediately feel my body tense as images from the altercation in the lab flood my mind. "I believe she called her a bitch, told her she was the one who left her child without a father, demanded to know why she thought it appropriate to show up at his grave, and so on and so forth."

Nancy's eyes close. "And she hit her?"

Nodding, I force myself to unclench my hands before I spill water all over the carpet. "Twice."

Eyes shooting to mine, my sister's expression is unreadable, but there is a definite undertone of anger. And, oh, I'm right there with her.

"What did Sara do?"

I shake my head. "Absolutely nothing. She stood there and took it. Sara tried to apologize to her at one point, but I believe Mrs. Trenton's hand slamming across her face cut that a bit short."

My sister's jaw clenches, and her chest rises and falls as she takes a deep breath.

Her voice is carefully controlled, "Knowing Sara, I bet she felt she deserved her anger."

I nod, "She told me that Mrs. Trenton is 'still grieving' and that she 'needed an outlet'."

Nancy snorts, shoving her free hand into the pocket of her jeans with obvious frustration. "But that outlet should not be physical violence against another human being."

I look at my sister, "I told her that exact thing, don't worry." I pause, "She didn't want to talk about it afterward, insisting we get back to work. After shift when we went to the overlook, she seemed alright with everything, but I don't know."

Nancy rubs her foot absently across the carpet. "I think she was starting to come to terms with the shooting, I can only hope this doesn't derail that."

I look at her, "She told you that? That she was coming to terms with it, I mean. She mentioned it to me as well, but I wasn't sure if she was just trying to placate me."

Smiling at me gently, Nancy shakes her head. "She told me that she never regrets pulling the trigger in light of what was at stake, that she was justified in her action. And then there was a bunch of lovey dovey stuff about you being the love of her life and her not being willing to lose you no matter the cost, blah blah blah. It all got very sappy…" My sister is grinning, obviously poking a bit of fun at me at the end.

Even though my sister is being playful, I feel my eyes moisten with tears at the revelation of her words. I know Sara loves me, she tells me herself often enough. But there is something about hearing your lover say it to someone else that makes it seem more real. I guess it feel s a bit like proof that their love for you still exists outside of your presence.

Feeling my sister's arms enfolding me, I take hold of her and breathe deeply. I feel her hand rubbing my back soothingly, her voice close to my ear as she lightly whispers, "She loves you so much, Catherine."

Not able to find my voice yet, I simply nod.

Finally pulling away, Nancy holds my cheek gently. "And hey, what's not to love?"

Smiling, I feel my body literally sagging with exhaustion.

Holding out her hand to me while placing our water bottles down on the end table, she looks me in the eye. "Come on, let's get you to bed."

Taking her offered hand, she leads me quietly into the bedroom. Pulling down the covers on my side for me, Nancy watches as I silently pull off my shoes and slide in next to Sara's still unmoving form.

Using her hand that is still in mine, I pull her down for a hug. "I love you so much."

She squeezes my hand and places a light kiss on my cheek before pulling away. "I love you, too."

She steps silently to the other side of the room, and I watch groggily as she looks down at Sara's sleeping form with a smile. After a moment she leans down and gives the brunette a kiss on the cheek, likely taking advantage of the rare opportunity.

Heading to the door, she whispers a final "Goodnight" before pulling the door closed with a quiet click.

Breathing in the fresh scent of fabric softener coming from the sheets, I roll over and place my arm protectively around Sara's waist. Other than a slight moan escaping from her lips, Sara does not stir.

Snuggling deeper into her, I give way to the undertow of exhaustion as I hear Nancy's car pull away.

* * *

Noticing the chirping of birds and feeling the bright sun on my face, I instantly know something isn't right. The birds are never this loud and the sun is never this bright when my alarm goes off.

Cracking open an eye, I look at the clock on the night table. 9:04am.

Crap.

Instantly, I throw the covers off and all but jump out of bed. Glancing over to Sara's side, I stop my movement when I see a note on her pillow. Reaching over to grab it curiously, I read her unique handwriting:

_Cath – _

_Sorry for falling asleep last night at the overlook, I don't know what happened. Hope you didn't have too much trouble getting me back home – I'm sure if you had poked me hard enough my lazy ass would have woken up…_

_I headed into work to get a head start on things, and I figured I would let you sleep until something important came up. I hope you're not upset, you just seemed really tired these last couple days._

_See you soon – love you._

_-S_

Folding up the paper and setting it on the dresser, I sigh to myself. I wish I could say I was upset at her for letting me sleep past the start of shift, but mostly I am relieved at feeling rested for once in my life.

Grabbing some fresh clothes, I head to the shower to get ready for the day.

Wind tousling my hair, I step through the lab doors. Instantly, the golden Nevada desert hues are replaced with the cool blues and silvers of the lab.

Waving to Judy, I make my way towards my office to check my inbox.

Opening the door, I nearly drop my purse on the floor when I see a figure sitting in my chair. Placing a hand over my racing heart, I shake my head. "Jesus, Sara, way to give a girl a heart attack."

Rising to her feet, Sara makes her way around my desk a bit sheepishly, "Sorry, I needed someplace quiet to think."

Sending her a warm smile to let her know I don't mind her using my office, I take note of the Vergenson case file in her hand. "Any progress?"

Shaking her head, Sara's defeated expression says it all.

"I was actually thinking of heading back out to the last scene, see if there is anything we missed."

Nodding my head, I can't help but agree that the last scene may be key. There has to be a reason why the killer altered his MO for this one particular scene. "Take Jim with you."

"Cath…"

Not even giving her a chance to argue, I look at her sternly. "Sara, you're taking him with you or you aren't going. I'm not taking any chances, not on a case as vile as this one."

Giving in, Sara offers me a reluctant nod. Gathering the rest of her things, she leans in and places a gentle kiss on my lips. "Good morning, by the way."

Smiling, I draw her back in for a more…active…kiss. "Good morning, indeed."

Sara pulls away, sending me a casual wave as she exits my office.

Sighing, I lower myself into my chair. Glancing at my inbox, I see there are two case files in it. Grabbing them in curiosity, I see that they are the two cases that Sara still had open. Looking through the files, I see that they are now complete. One is being closed due to insufficient evidence, but the other has record of a suspect being identified and brought in for questioning. After the interview, the suspect was arrested under suspicion of murder and is now awaiting trial.

Signing off on both files and placing them in my outbox, I am amazed that Sara found the time to bring these cases to a close. Something tells me Sara's insomnia had a lot to do with it.

Sending off a couple of emails that needed my attention and returning a few phone calls, I am debating whether or not to delve back into the evidence boxes from the Vergenson case when my pager goes off. My eyebrows furrow when I see that Doc Robbins is the one that paged me.

Making my way to the morgue, I grow more and more curious as to what the Doc has to share with me that he didn't share when we met yesterday. Pushing through the heavy metal doors, I shiver as the temperature drop hits my exposed skin. Hearing my entrance, Doc Robbins glances up from a body that I do not recognize as being from one of my cases. Snapping off his rubber gloves, he pulls a piece of paper off the work bench behind him.

"Good, Catherine, you got my page. You remember how I mentioned to you that the wife in your last scene was pregnant?"

Nodding, I try to push away the feelings of anger as I am reminded of the gruesome revelation that occurred during yesterday's autopsy.

Hedging slightly, the Doc looks up, hesitating.

I have never seen Doc Robbins this nervous.

"I don't know how to say this, Catherine, but it's not your victim's fetus."

I'm sure you could hear a pin drop in the silence currently permeating the room.

"Excuse me?"

Reaching over, he hands me the DNA report in his hand. "I was testing the fetus to confirm paternity, as is standard in cases such as these. However, upon receiving the results, it became apparent that I should have been checking to confirm _maternity._"

Looking down, it is obvious that the genetic profile of the fetus does not match that of the husband or the wife in the current family of victims. I feel my stomach drop, and I hope the Doc can't see the tremor in my hands.

"How…? She was pregnant…then where…where is her own fetus?"

"Your guess is as good as mine."

I shake my head, "This is beyond fucked up. Who the hell is this son of a bitch?"

Doc Robbins looks genuinely sympathetic as his blue eyes meet my own. "I'm really sorry, Catherine."

Nodding, I simply thank him for the results and make my way out of the morgue. I mean, really, what is there to say?

* * *

Grabbing the evidence boxes from the vault, I drop them angrily on the layout table. Opening one after the other, I comb each piece of evidence with renewed fervor and rage.

Shaking my head in disgust, I realize that the better part of two hours has gone by with no progress being made. I am so damn sick of getting nowhere on this case.

Tossing down the lid on the latest box with much more force than necessary, I try to focus on the items inside.

I feel like I am going out of my fucking mind.

Just as I am about to have some sort of mental breakdown, there is a light knock on the door before it swings open to reveal Sara.

Stepping into the room, she closes the door behind her. I can see her taking in the all the items strewn about, sweeping her observant gaze over the evidence boxes, and then over me.

I don't know what it is, but there is something about seeing Sara that makes something inside of me shift.

Sara represents love, hope, strength. Desperately, I need to feel all off that, be a part of all of that. Most of all, I need a distraction, something to take me away from the awful recesses of my mind where the dark and violent facets of this case are trying to hold me hostage and play me like a puppet.

Before I know what has come over me, I find myself grabbing Sara by her cotton shirt and pushing her back into the counter along the side wall. Instantly, my lips are on hers, kissing her forcefully.

Putting her hands on my chest, she tries to push me back gently.

"Catherine…" Her voice is concerned, confused.

Grabbing her wrists, I pull her hands away and hold them tightly to her sides so she cannot push me away. Again, I aggressively place my lips on hers, biting down on her bottom lip when she starts to pull her head back.

Finally, I break our kiss, moving my mouth down her neck.

"Catherine, stop." Her voice is still concerned, but now there is a distinct edge to it.

Pulling my head up, I look her in the eyes. "Please, Sara, I need this."

My tone is desperate, pleading. I can tell by the emotions playing across her hazel eyes that she is torn, unsure of whether it is right to put an end to this or let me have what I so obviously need.

Taking advantage of her uncertainty, I let go of one of her wrists in order to reach for her pants.

Hastily unbuckling her belt, I have her belt undone and her jeans unbuttoned before I register that her free hand is once again attempting to push me away – this time with significantly more force. Deciding to change tactics, I once again grab her free wrist in my hand and hold it tight. Using my leg instead, I force my thigh between hers, pushing into her center.

Sara's head pulls away from me, connecting with the wall behind her. Trying to use her height advantage, she attempts to lift herself on her toes enough to get herself onto the counter and away from me. Pushing my leg harder into her, I simultaneously pull down on her arms to keep her in place.

My mouth makes its way to her neck, feverishly taking in her exposed skin. Feeling the vibrations in her neck, her voice once again makes its way to my ears.

"Catherine, I am asking you to stop."

Her voice is stern, demanding. It's a tone that I have so rarely heard come out of her mouth that it alone gives me pause. Pulling away, I truly see her for the first time.

Her eyes are a curious mix of anger, concern, and fear. This time, it's the fear that stops me in my tracks.

Sara Sidle isn't afraid of anything.

Looking down, I see my fingers digging into the skin of her wrists, my leg forcefully placed between hers and pinning her against the counter. Pulling away slowly, I remove all contact between our bodies. Taking my head into my hands, the reality of the situation pushes its way into my consciousness.

What in the hell am I doing?

I feel myself shaking, and I am afraid I am going to collapse. Blindly reaching for a stool behind me, I sit myself on its edge.

Sara still hasn't moved.

Continuing to hold my head, I shake it back and forth in disgust. "Sara, I am so sorry."

Her closing her eyes is the only recognition of my words.

"I am so sorry."

I don't know how many times I have repeated the words before I register movement.

After readjusting her belt, Sara shifts slightly away from the counter, her arms folding themselves protectively across her chest. "Stop saying it, Cath. I heard you the first time."

Her tone is unreadable.

Instantly, I quiet myself, waiting for her to make the next move.

"What happened to you here today?"

Her eyes are boring into mine, obviously looking for some sort of understanding.

"I don't know," my voice is shaking, on the verge of cracking. "I think everything just piled up for me. Doc Robbins told me that the fetus in the victim yesterday wasn't hers. That somehow the killer had managed to expand upon his fettish with swapping body parts by placing someone else's baby inside of her. Who the fuck does something like that? So then I came back here to find something, anything, to nail the bastard. But once again I get nowhere."

She is slightly thrown, her expression clouding as she takes in the new information about the fetus. Shortly after, she shakes her head, gesturing between us, "But why…this? Is it because you were angry?"

I get where she is going with her question – wanting to know if I needed someone to take my anger out on. I feel like I am going to throw up.

"God, no, Sara. I saw you and I needed to feel the love that you embody to me. I needed something to ground me again, to take me away to a place where evil like the Vergenson killer doesn't exist."

Sara doesn't move her eyes from mine. "You could have asked."

I shake my head, "I know, trust me. I wasn't in my right mind, it's like I was watching myself from somewhere else. I knew what I wanted, what I needed, and it was all I could see."

Sara's tone loses some of its edge, "Cath, I think you should go home. Or, at the very least, work on another case for the rest of shift."

I look up, protests lining up along my tongue like soldiers in a war against reason.

Sara raises her hand to stop me, "I know, you're the boss and I have no right to question you. But if this were the other way around, you would pull me from this case immediately. I'm not trying to be a jackass here, but I am worried about you. You need a chance to clear your mind for awhile. All I am suggesting is you take the day to get yourself back in order."

I sigh, her request really isn't unfair. And to be honest, if the roles were reversed I would have had her off this case permanently after the events of today. All she is asking for is a day.

I essentially assaulted the woman that I love, ignoring her requests to stop. If that doesn't tell me I need to get my shit together, I don't know what would.

"You're right, Sara." I stand from the stool, gathering the evidence back together. Stacking the boxes up for her to do with what she pleases, I make my way to the door. "I really am sorry."

She is still looking me in the eye, but after a moment her gaze finally falters. Focusing on a spot to my left, she nods her head. "I know you are."

Without another word, she steps up to the table to begin going through the evidence herself. I understand that this is my cue to leave, silently departing the room without another word.

* * *

NANCY POV

It's Friday, and I'm bored. I know I should be grateful for the lull at work, but unfortunately I am the type of person that does best with multiple things on my 'to do' list. The way our oncology clinics have patients scheduled for chemo and radiation, it leaves Fridays more or less open for emergency cases. And, alas, today there appear to be absolutely no emergencies.

Which, again, I have to keep reminding myself is a good thing.

No one wants patients to have health crises just because they are bored.

Picking up my book, I continue where I last left off.

I hear the shuffling of feet as someone approaches from my right. "Ah, 'A Molecular View on Cancer', sounds absolutely thrilling, Flynn."

Not even bothering to look up, I smirk. "It really is, Dr. Richards, thank you for asking."

I hear him snort as he grabs a cup of coffee and leaves as quickly as he came. Looking around to be sure that no one else is in the room, I carefully readjust the book jacket to be sure it is properly in place.

Something tells me my attending physicians would be less impressed with me if they discovered the real title of the book underneath the phony jacket. I believe 'The Revenge of the Galaxians – A Battle for New Arbatron' would make me a bit of a laughing stock around here. Thus the bogus book cover, effectively leaving my love of science fiction a secret guilty pleasure.

Just as I am getting to the part where the hero is about to settle the 128.75 light-year war between two rival alien species, my cell vibrates in my pocket. Pulling it out, I see that Sara is the caller.

"Hey."

I immediately pick up on the strain in her voice as she states, "Hey, Nancy. I'm sorry to bother you again at work."

Putting my book down on the counter, I give her my full attention. "Don't worry about it, Sara. What do you need?"

"I'm calling about Catherine."

My heart rate picks up. "Is she alright?"

Sara pauses. "Yeah, sort of. Look, something happened at work today – there was a new piece of evidence that really took its toll on your sister. She was obviously distressed, so I told her to go home and take the rest of the day off."

I feel slightly better knowing that she is at least physically okay. "Alright, things here are slow so I can probably clock out in about half an hour and go check on her."

I hear Sara sigh. "Thank you so much, Nancy. I am not going to be able to leave here for quite some time and I don't think she should be on her own for that long right now."

I hesitate about whether to ask the next question, in the end deciding to go for it. "Is there something else, Sara? Something specific that happened with her today? I'm sorry for prying, but it just sounds like you are really upset about something."

There is another pause. "No. She just…wasn't herself. There's a park on Wellshire that she likes to go to sometimes. I would check there if she's not at home."

I recognize the change of subject and decide to drop it, I'll be talking with my sister soon enough.

Starting to gather my things, I say to Sara, "Thanks for calling, I really appreciate you letting me know."

Sara sighs. "I feel like we are bugging you all the time – you have your own things to worry about."

Again, her voice is strained, leaving me convinced that something in particular happened during their shift today.

"Sara, you guys are family. Nothing else comes before that."

Hearing her silence, I can almost picture her pinching the bridge of her nose.

Softening my own voice, I hope to alleviate some of her stress. "I'm always here for you both. I'll find Cath and make sure she is doing alright – don't worry about a thing."

She now sounds exhausted more than anything else. "Alright, thanks Nancy."

I pause, "Oh, and Sara?"

"Yeah?"

"Take care of yourself as well, alright?"

I hear her snort, and I'm glad if nothing else I have hopefully brought a smile to her face. "Yes, mother."

"Good. I'll check in with you later."

"Please do."

And with that, we hang up.

* * *

Pulling my Honda into the parking lot of the park, I don't have to look far to find my sister. She is sitting on a picnic table, her back to me as she faces out into the gardens. Without saying anything, I sit myself next to her.

She doesn't look over, knowing exactly who it is. "Sara called you."

It's not a question, so I don't provide an answer. "She was worried about you, Cath."

She continues to stare into the distance.

"What happened today, Catherine?"

Finally, her eyes dip from the distance to her hands folded in her lap.

"There was a development in the case. It was…horrifying, disturbing. It really enraged me to the point that I wasn't even seeing straight anymore." Finally, her eyes meet mine. "I can't really talk about what it was, I can't take any chances of getting this case pulled from court. I'm sorry."

Holding up my hand to stop her, I shake my head. "Say no more, I understand."

We sit in silence for a bit, and eventually I turn to face her. "Did something else happen? Something between you and Sara?"

She looks over at me, "What did she tell you?"

"Nothing, actually. She just sounded a bit upset, I guess, when I talked to her earlier."

Catherine looks away from me again.

"Come on, Cath. Now I know there is definitely something that happened, so just spill it. Did you guys have a fight?"

Her hands are clenched and her facial expression is tense. "I practically assaulted her in the lab."

My brows furrow, and I'm sure I look as confused as I feel. "You mean physically or verbally?"

She gives me a look, her cheeks turning a bit red.

Finally, it hits me. "Oh…"

Looking away again, she nods. "Yeah."

I shake my head, kind of at a loss for what to say.

Catherine finally takes a deep breath, still looking out into the gardens. "I forced myself on her. I was all over her, Nancy. She told me to stop, and I didn't."

With a sigh, her head bows. "I was out of my mind."

I place my hand on her leg. "I'm sure she knows that, Cath. She knows that you would never hurt her under any normal circumstances. You got caught up in the case and lost touch with reality for a bit."

Her voice is lost. "I am beginning to wonder if she actually trusts me at all. Especially when all I seem to do is keep hurting her."

"Cather-"

"No." My sister gets to her feet, cutting off my protests. "I don't want to go into this right now. I _can't _go into this right now."

I stand alongside her. "Alright, no pressure from me. I think this is a conversation you should be having with Sara, anyway."

She doesn't argue, and I place my hand gently on her arm. "Come on, I'll follow you home."

Looking at me, she shakes her head. "I don't need a babysitter, Nancy." Her voice is saying one thing, but the look in her eyes is saying another. Her blue gaze is practically screaming at me not to leave her alone right now.

"I tried that argument with you for years, Cath. It never worked for me back then, and it isn't going to work for you right now. Let's go."

She lets out a glimpse of a smile, squeezing my free hand in hers as we make our way back to our cars.

* * *

**AN: Thank you for reading. Let me know your thoughts.**


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: Here's the next chapter. A heartfelt thank you to those who reviewed the last chapter – I honestly appreciate your guys' kind words more than you can know. You inspire me.**

* * *

NANCY POV

I am about to place my bishop in line to take the queen when I hear a car approaching. Looking up, I see a dark SUV pull into the drive, headlights flicking off as the engine cuts out. I set the bishop on the chess board next to the queen and lean back, watching as Sara walks up the drive and onto the porch.

Quirking a brow, Sara lets out a low chuckle. "Your invisible friend must be quite the intellectual."

I snicker, rolling my eyes. "You never played chess against yourself?"

Sara snorts, "Not in public where I could be seen."

"Ahh," I say, laughing. "That's where I went wrong then, apparently."

Sara's face is cast in deep shadows from the glow of the porch light behind her. "Actually, I believe you went wrong when you decided to use the Zwischenzug tactic to threaten the white queen with the black bishop instead of using the rook to defend the king."

Raising my eyebrows, I look down at the chessboard. "I think I'll have to take your word on that one."

Sara glances quickly at the front door and then returns her eyes to the rooks and pawns in front of her. "She inside?"

I nod, studying her as intently as she is studying the game pieces. "Yeah, she went to bed about an hour ago."

Nodding, Sara takes a breath. "You taking off then?"

I shrug, "Wasn't really planning on it yet, thought I would hang out a bit longer if that's okay."

"That's fine." Her voice is neutral.

Eventually, she seems to come out of her haze and pulls her eyes from the board to look at me. "You want some company?"

It's quite obvious that Sara is avoiding going inside. I have a feeling Catherine currently being inside has a lot to do with that.

Taking pity on her, I kick out the chair across from me. "It's your porch."

When she looks at me without expression, not moving towards the offered chair, I change tactics. "I would love the company, Sara."

She stares at me a moment longer before situating her tall frame in the chair, her feet making their way up onto the porch rail.

Her voice is low, slightly rough. "You mind if I smoke?"

Sending her a glare, I move a black pawn forward a space. "Yes I do. You know those things are slowly killing you, right?"

She doesn't look at me, gazing out into the dark night instead. "My grandmother smoked all her life. She died when she was 97 years old."

Sara so rarely talks about her family that her comment throws me off track. I seriously haven't heard her utter a word about any of the Sidles since the time in her apartment when she gave me a brief glimpse into her past. I still don't think she has shared any details about anyone or anything family related, even with Catherine.

"Well, I think your best chance of hanging around until you are 97 involves cutting it out with the cancer sticks."

When she snorts, I give her an incredulous look. "Really, Sar, I'm an oncology nurse. Did you honestly think I would be able to hold back my anti-smoking lecture from you much longer?"

Finally, she turns her gaze in my direction. "Nope. Actually, I'm impressed you kept it in this long."

Meeting my eyes, she sends me a look. "I'm downwind of you."

"Sara!" I all but growl at her. "I'm not worried about the secondhand smoke, I'm worried about your lungs shriveling into black lumps of charcoal."

Sara raises a brow. "That's impressive imagery, almost poetic."

Rolling my eyes, I shake my head. "Fine, stubborn Sally. Don't come crying to me later in life, though."

Chuckling, Sara pulls out her cigarettes and a lighter. She takes a deep inhalation once one is lit, her eyes closing as she breathes the smoke out into the night air.

Cracking one eye open, she looks pointedly at a spot to the right of my chair. "Hey, we all have our vices, right?"

Scrunching my own eyes shut in embarrassment, I don't have to follow her gaze to know what she is looking at.

Reaching down beside my chair, I pull out the still nearly full bottle of whiskey and place it on the chess board. I know for a fact that my face is blushing something fierce.

Deciding not to even bother giving an explanation, I pull off the top.

"You want some?" I ask, tipping the bottle towards her.

I find it kind of ironic that I am offering Sara a bottle of whiskey that I took from her own house.

Sara smiles, reaching for the whiskey and taking it from my hand.

"You weren't even using a glass, were you?" she questions as she takes a healthy swig.

Looking over at her and grinning as her face contorts from the burn of the alcohol, I reply, "Nope, kind of a 'straight from the bottle' type of night."

"I see," Sara states, taking another long drink before placing the bottle back on the table.

Taking a drag on her cigarette, she turns her head to face me. "How is she?"

The fact that Sara didn't ask that question back at the beginning of our conversation makes me curious about her current mindset regarding the events of the night. I don't think anyone would respond well to their lover forcing themselves on them, but something tells me that it would bring up particular issues for the brunette.

I take a drink from the bottle, grimacing at its strong bite.

"She's better, I think. She was upset about the turn the case took." I look at Sara to gauge her reaction, "But mostly I think she was upset with herself and how she behaved."

Sara's brows furrow, but she turns her head away without comment.

Deciding that Sara will never open up about what happened today if I don't reveal that I already know, I keep my voice soft, clarifying, "How she behaved towards _you_, Sara."

Her head falls back to rest against the back of her chair, smoke making its way out her nostrils as her mouth remains closed in a tense line.

Finally, Sara rubs her eyes with her free hand and then reaches for the whiskey bottle. Taking another long drink, she no longer reacts to its bitter taste.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to say, Nancy."

I take a deep breath, watching as she places the bottle back on the board. "You could start with how you feel…"

Sara snorts, "Yeah, I could. But that would infer that I actually knew what the fuck I felt about it. What the fuck I felt about any of this shit."

Her voice is hard, a distinct edge occupying the undertone.

After a moment, she once again rubs her eyes. "I'm sorry."

I shake my head, "Don't be."

Reaching for the whiskey, I take note of how low it has gotten. We had better slow down if we intend to have any semblance of a logical conversation. After a small sip I place the bottle back down.

Looking at Sara, I take in her dark expression. "Sara, the woman you love essentially assaulted you today, it's alright to feel angry about it."

Shaking her head, she leans forward in her chair. "No, she was upset about the case. And rightfully so. It could just as easily have happened the other way around."

My voice is stern, "It could have, but it didn't."

She doesn't comment, her posture remaining defensive and her expression guarded.

"You told her to stop, Sara, but she didn't listen. For someone with trust issues as deep as yours, that is bound to do some damage."

Her head whips to mine, hurt evident in her eyes. "What the fuck, Nancy?"

I close my eyes briefly.

I know my statement was harsh, but I refuse to let Sara hide her emotions away just so that she can placate everyone around her into thinking she is fine. I care too damn much about her to play a passive role in that game.

"You can't tell me it isn't true, Sar."

She snorts angrily, "Quite frankly, I don't have to tell you anything."

I shrug. "You're right, you don't. But you can't seriously think you can sit here, bruises on your wrists, and tell me that everything is fine. That you don't feel the least bit angry about the turn of events."

Sara turns away, immediately pulling down on the sleeves of her sweater so they are almost covering her hands.

Her jaw is clenched tightly.

"She's your sister, Nancy."

I soften my voice. "Yes she is, and I spent most of this evening making sure that she was alright. Now, excuse me if I want to check in on the wellbeing of my best friend."

Sara's brows immediately furrow, and her head turns slowly to face me.

Her dark eyes are unreadable except for the confusion clouding them.

I feel my own confusion rising as I try to make sense of her expression. "What?"

She doesn't answer right away, just looks at me awhile before slowly lowering her head.

"Nothing."

Finally, after replaying my previous statement in my head, I feel pretty confident that I have found the part of it that gave her pause.

Shaking my head, I try to catch her eyes. "You really had no idea that I consider you my best friend, did you?"

Sara's head remains bowed, hands fidgeting with her cigarette. Her silence is answer enough.

"Well, whether you like it or not, you are."

We are both quiet for a bit, trying to get our various emotions under control.

A short while later, I hear her mumble, "I like it."

Looking up at me to finally meet my eyes, she states again, clearer, "Being your best friend, like it or not. I like it."

I grin slightly, "Good, cause I'm not really sure you have much say in the matter anyway."

Finally letting out a small grin of her own, Sara returns her penetrating gaze to the darkness.

"I'm sorry, Sara. My drilling you with questions before was out of line. And I never should have made that comment about trust issues."

I stand by my convictions of the need for her to open up, but seeing her defeated posture and taking into account all of the shit going on in her life right now, she didn't need to be approached so aggressively.

Finally taking the last drag on her cigarette, she puts it out with her shoe. "No, you were right."

Taking my silence as a cue to continue, she places her head in her hands, elbows resting on her knees. "It did do something to me today."

Turning to face me, she looks almost apologetic. "I just honestly don't know what exactly it did yet. I'm sorry."

Nodding, I reach out and place my hand on her arm. Feeling her flinch under my touch, I have a pretty good idea of what it did.

"I just wanted to get the point across that it is okay to admit that it affected you, Sara."

Seeing the need to change the subject, especially after taking in her tense expression, I remove my hand and sit back in my chair.

"How was the rest of your shift? Any leads?"

She shakes her head, letting out a deep breath. "Not really. I'm still waiting for some results, but nothing looks promising. I keep feeling like I am on the verge of figuring out those damn coded messages, but I just can't get it to click."

Picking up the bottle again, I extend it out to her. "It will."

Sending me a hint of a smile, she gratefully takes the whiskey.

"Thanks," she mutters as she takes a couple swallows.

Placing the bottle back down, she blinks her eyes a couple times, "That stuff is really strong."

Letting out a snicker, I tell her, "Now you know why I wasn't ready to drive home before."

Sara laughs lightly, "Well, you still aren't. And now neither am I. Looks like you're stuck here another night."

"I don't think 'stuck' is the appropriate term," I state, sending her a playful wink. "But I guess it works out anyway since I am spending tomorrow morning with Catherine while you take Chris climbing."

Nodding, Sara pulls herself to a standing position.

Glancing at the bottle, she gestures towards it. "There are about three swallows left - you want to do the honors?"

Already feeling my head getting a bit fuzzy, I wave my hands adamantly. "No way, she's all yours."

Sara makes a face, reaching her hand out to the railing to steady herself. I get the impression that she is no better off than I am, if anything she appears to be a bit worse.

Taking a breath, she reaches for the whiskey. "You owe me."

With one swift motion, she tips the bottle back and essentially chugs the remainder of the alcohol.

Grimacing, she all but shoves the bottle back down on the chess board. "Ugh, that's awful."

I send her a warm smile, "You're my hero."

Snorting, Sara rubs her face. Looking up, she seems a bit hesitant. "You can go ahead, the guest room should be all set for you to use."

Raising my brow, I tilt my head in question. "And what are you going to do?"

Her answer is slow, and I'm not sure if it's a result of her uncertainty or the alcohol. "I think I am going to stay out here for awhile."

Shaking my head, I place a gentle hand on her shoulder. "You can't avoid her forever."

Her eyes darken in shadow, her gaze dropping away.

"I know, but I just can't deal with it right now. Not tonight." She takes a pause. "And I don't want to hurt her feelings by sleeping on the couch."

Nodding in understanding, I use my hands to place both of her hands on the railing. I could feel her swaying under my touch before, and I don't want to take any chances that she falls over before I get back.

"Stay right here," I order her.

Seeing her expression, I use my best threatening tone, "I mean it, Sar, don't you dare move an inch."

Turning, I quietly enter the house and make my way to the guest room. Pulling the blankets off the end of the bed, I tiptoe my way back out onto the porch, shutting the front door quietly behind me.

Looking over, I see Sara sitting on the porch rail.

"Seriously?" I state in frustration.

Her expression is downright sheepish. "I…uh…I got a bit dizzy…thought I should take a seat…sorry..."

"So you take a seat _on _the railing?"

Shaking my head, I wrap my arm around her waist to pull her gently off the rail and onto her feet.

Keeping my hold on her, I start walking us towards the porch swing. Sara's steps are somewhat clumsy, the task of putting one foot in front of the other seeming a bit daunting for the brunette.

Feeling her take a deep breath, she mutters, "Jesus, this is embarrassing."

Chuckling softly, I tighten my hold and maneuver her far enough within reach of the swing that she can sit down.

Sitting next to her, I wrap a blanket around her shoulders.

Opening my arms, I look her in the eye. "Come here."

The puzzled expression on her face is almost comical. "What? Are we hugging or something?"

I roll my eyes, "No we aren't hugging. Gosh darn it, Sara, get your ass over here."

Sara raises her eyebrows at my tone, half heartedly leaning slightly closer to me, her expression wary.

"Oh for the love of Pete," I mutter as I reach over and take the stubborn brunette in my arms.

Holding her around the shoulders, I am able to lower us both into a lying position on the swing.

Grabbing the other blanket from the back of the swing, I lay it over our bodies. Readjusting the pillow behind my head, I keep Sara held close.

Seeing that her eyes are still wide open quite some time later, her expression tense, I gently place my hand on her shoulder.

"You're okay, Sara. Just close your eyes."

Finally, after about a minute, Sara's eyes begin to blink tiredly.

Eventually, a mixture of exhaustion and alcohol win the fight and the brunette's body begins to grow lax in my arms.

Feeling the fuzziness in my own head pulling me under, I tuck the blanket tightly around us and surrender to the darkness.

* * *

CATHERINE POV

Waking to the sound of my alarm, I reach over and silence the incessant beeping. Turning over, I immediately notice that Sara is not up reading in bed. In fact, judging by the looks of the pillow on her side, it appears that she never slept in our bed at all last night.

Feeling confusion paint my expression, I make my way out into the rest of the house.

A quick walkthrough is all I need to realize that Sara is not here.

Looking out the front window, I see that Sara's car is in the drive. Surprisingly, though, so is my sister's.

Figuring they are out for a walk, I decide to make myself some tea.

Grabbing the steaming cup of chamomile tea when it is finished, I open the front door to step out onto the porch.

Closing the door behind me, I nearly jump out of my skin when I see two bodies occupying the swing.

It's obvious that one of the bodies is my sister, her face clearly visible. I am assuming the dark lock of hair poking out from the top of the blanket belongs to Sara.

If I'm honest with myself, the scene is absolutely adorable, and I feel my lips pulling into a grin.

However, I also feel discomfort grow inside of me at the fact that Sara didn't spend the night with me, instead choosing to sleep outside our home.

Taking a seat on a side chair, my eyes are immediately drawn to the bottle of whiskey sitting atop the table.

Correction, the _empty_ bottle of whiskey.

Looking down, I see the remains of a cigarette along the edge of the wood in the flowerbed.

Based on these items alone, I begin to pale at the obvious troubled mental state Sara and my sister must have been in last night. And I have a good idea of who put Sara in the position of turning to alcohol and cigarettes to deal with that mental state.

Releasing a sigh, I vow to sit down and discuss things with Sara as soon as we get the chance. I want to spend my nights entwined with the love of my life, not alone in our bed while she freezes her ass off on the porch with a bottle of Jack.

My eyes are drawn back to the slumbering forms when a blur of motion catches my eye.

Looking over, I see Sara jerk straight up, her frantic gaze anxiously taking in her surroundings.

The rapid motion must have jarred Nancy, because she is now blinking her startled eyes against the morning sun.

"Holy crap, Sar. I think you just took about twelve years off my life. You alright?"

Still breathing heavily, Sara's eyes meet mine across the porch.

"Sorry. Yeah, I'm fine," she answers Nancy while keeping her eyes fixed on me.

Following her gaze, Nancy looks over at me as well. "Hey, morning sis."

Her warm smile draws out a smile of my own. "Morning."

Sara and I still haven't exchanged a word, and I feel myself growing nervous under her intense gaze.

"There's hot water on the stove if you guys want some tea," I tell them.

Looking pointedly at the bottle of whiskey, I add, "Or perhaps some strong coffee."

Finally, Sara looks away.

Extracting herself from the swing, she runs a hand through her tousled hair. "Sounds good to me. I'm going to grab a quick shower before Chris gets here."

Without another word, she walks through the front door and is gone.

My expression must have revealed my feelings of disappointment, because Nancy is sitting up as she states, "Give it time, Cath."

Letting out a breath, I look out at the rising sun. "I'll try."

"Good," my sister replies. Grabbing her head, she lets out a slight groan, "Please tell me you have some aspirin."

Laughing slightly at her obvious state of disarray, I ask her in my most innocent tone, "Now why would you need aspirin, little sister?"

Snorting, Nancy pulls the blanket tightly around her shoulders, "Because your little sister is a lush who spent the night on a wooden porch swing."

"Ah, well I always suspected the lush part," I tease. "I'll grab you some aspirin while you go take a shower."

Looking at me confusedly, Nancy doesn't move.

"Nance, I love you, but if we are going to spend the morning together, I would rather you not smell like a bar."

Cheeks coloring slightly, my sister gets to her feet. "The things I do for you."

Rolling my eyes, I playfully smack her hip as she walks past me into the house.

* * *

Showers and copious amounts of coffee drank in silence later, there is a knock at the door.

Nancy gets up, and when I hear muffled voices I figure Chris has arrived. Heading out into the living room, I indeed see Chris standing in the doorway talking to Nancy.

Seeing me, he comes over and places a kiss on my cheek. "Hi Catherine, thanks again for letting me steal Sara for the morning."

Smiling in return, I squeeze his arm. "No problem."

When he sees Sara enter the room he starts to approach her.

Pulling him back to me, I whisper, "If you want to survive the day, I suggest not trying to kiss Sara hello."

He looks confused, but nods in understanding.

"Oh, and Chris?"

Turning back to me, he raises his brows, "Yeah?"

"Bring her back in one piece."

He smiles, the look in his eyes letting me know he understands that I am quite serious.

"Promise."

Turning once again to Sara, he catches up with her as she is dumping a duffle bag in the doorway. "Hey, Sara."

Sara looks up, and she sends him a smile. "Hey. You ready?"

Even from across the room, it is easy to see how excited Chris is. "You bet. My stuff's in the driveway next to your Tahoe."

The brunette sends him a nod, and I'm happy to see that Sara actually looks excited as well. "Alright, let's head out, then."

Agreeing eagerly, Chris sends me a wave.

Approaching Nancy, he enfolds her gently in his arms, placing a light kiss on her lips. "See you soon, babe. Love you."

Nancy smiles warmly, squeezing him tightly before letting go. "Be careful."

Pulling her eyes away from him, she glances at Sara. "Both of you."

Sara snorts. "Chris, let's get out of here before mother forces us to use the buddy system and have our phone numbers sewn into our clothing."

Laughing, Chris picks up Sara's bag for her. "Sounds like a definite plan to me."

Sara turns to me, but is still talking to Chris. "I'll meet you in the car."

Taking the hint, Chris heads out into the bright light of the day.

Approaching me, Sara stops a couple feet from where I am standing.

Pausing, and then shaking her head at the awkwardness of the situation, she closes the remaining space and gives me a hug.

Her embrace is stiffer than usual, our bodies not fitting together as they normally do. But hey, I'm just glad she is willing to give me this much right now.

Pulling away slightly, she places her hand on my cheek. "Take care while I'm gone."

Nodding, I look into her eyes. "You too."

Sara doesn't look away. "I love you, Catherine. No matter what, I'll always love you."

I feel tears well up in my eyes as I smile in understanding of the meaning behind her words. Things aren't fixed yet, but Sara has made a point of letting me know that what happened in the lab hasn't changed her feelings for me.

It's a fantastic relief.

Seeing that I am choked up, she simply nods her head in understanding and makes her way to the front door.

With a brief goodbye exchanged with Nancy, she disappears out onto the porch, the front door swinging closed behind her.

* * *

**AN: Thanks for reading.**


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: Hope all is well with everyone – here is the next chapter. Thanks again to those who took the time to review – they are appreciated beyond words.**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

CATHERINE POV

Sitting on a park bench, I sigh contentedly. I don't think it has ever felt so good simply to sit down.

Plopping her form rather ungracefully next to me, Nancy lets out a sigh of her own.

"Holy crap…" she mutters, mostly to herself.

"No kidding."

I don't know if it is the profuse amounts of cotton candy I consumed, or the blazing sun beating down on our heads for the last three hours that has me feeling so blasé. Resting my head along the back of the bench, I allow the sounds of children laughing to wash over me. Furrowing my brows, I wonder how it is that these little toddlers are still squealing and bouncing with joy while I, a grown woman, am absolutely wiped out by a morning at the zoo.

"The sea lions aren't so scary any more…" Nancy mumbles. "Maybe it's because I am no longer five years old."

I snort, "Yeah, right. That's why you screeched like a little girl when that one swam up against the glass by you."

Opening my eyes, I take in my sister's open-mouthed expression. "I did _not_ screech. I yelped. There is a distinctive difference."

Laughing, I pat her knee. "Of course there is, honey."

Rolling her eyes, Nancy playfully swats my hand away. "At least a bird didn't poop on me."

Glaring at her, I send her my best look of intimidation. "You said you wouldn't bring that up for the rest of the day."

Nancy shrugs, completely not intimidated by me in the least. "Well, I tried. But then I look at you and your goofy attempt to cover it by rolling your pant leg up, and all my self-control goes right out the window."

"It wouldn't wash out," I mutter under my breath in an attempt to defend myself and my current fashion faux pa.

Nancy's only response is to snicker.

Gesturing to the bag in my hand, she raises a brow. "You think you got enough of that crap for Sara?"

I feel my eyes go wide in mock-horror. "Good thing she isn't here to hear you call her beloved culinary delight 'crap'."

Shaking her head, Nancy says, "Yeah, it probably is. But the question still stands."

Feeling the weight of the bag, I relent to myself that I may have gone a bit overboard, but there is no way I am going to admit that to my sister. "She loves this stuff, and it's 10 cents apiece, so I don't really think there is such a thing as too much rock candy."

Sara told me once that her favorite treat is rock candy, which is essentially crystallized sugar water on a stick. She said it reminded her of the times she would go to the local science museum as a kid – admission was free, so she would use any spare change she found on the rock candy in the gift shop. The store here at the zoo had all sorts of flavors, and I thought I would surprise Sara by getting her one of each. Even though there are currently 27 different flavors in my bag, it still cost me a grand total of $2.70. Talk about a bargain; Sara may be onto something.

"Besides," I continue, gesturing to her lap, "you're the one who got Chris a stuffed owl."

Clutching the said stuffed animal close in her arms, she shakes her head at me. "Don't talk about Hoot like that. Besides, owls are his favorite animal."

"Hoot?" I question, my eyes large.

Face turning red, Nancy glares at me. "I don't know, it's the name they gave him on the tag."

"Uh huh," I tease.

"Oh whatever," Nancy says, "the things we do for love, right?"

I smile at her use of the word 'love' in reference to Chris. "Right."

Sighing and looking at her watch, Nancy squints her eyes up at me. "It's about 1:00, you think we should head back?"

I sigh, dragging myself to my feet. "Yeah, we probably should."

Turning, we head back out to the parking lot.

As I am about to get in the car, Nancy reaches over and gives me a hug.

Wrapping my arms around her in surprise, she whispers in my ear. "Thanks for today, I had so much fun."

I smile, squeezing her tighter, "So did I, Nancy. So did I."

Pulling away, I look her in the eyes. "I love you. You know that, right?"

Nancy smiles back at me, eyes shimmering in the sunlight. "I had my suspicions."

Sending me a wink, Nancy moves around the car to hop in the passenger side.

Shaking my head, I get in the car as well.

Pulling off, I smile as I roll the window down and stick my arm out into the warm Nevada breeze.

* * *

NANCY POV

Sitting on my sister's porch with some very refreshing ice cream, my ears perk up at the sound of a car approaching. I feel my face break into a smile when it becomes apparent that the car in question is Sara's Tahoe.

I feel like an anxious mother awaiting her child's return from their first day of school.

Looking beside me, I see an equally excited expression gracing Catherine's face.

The Tahoe slides to a stop on the gravel drive, the engine roaring to a halt.

Sara is the first to exit, heading around to the back and pulling out their climbing ropes. Chris follows soon after, playfully poking her in the arm as he grabs his own stuff from the back.

Laughing, they both shake their heads at a private joke as they make their way up the drive and onto the porch.

Looking up, I can't help but stifle a laugh at their matching grins and matching red faces.

Catherine is the first to speak. "Uh, did someone forget to bring sunscreen?"

My laugh is no longer stifled, I can't help it. They look like they just spent the day in a nuclear reactor.

Sara and Chris exchange a look, snickering to themselves.

Rolling his eyes, Chris reaches into his pocket while Sara has a smug expression. Without a word, he pulls out a five dollar bill and hands it over to the grinning brunette.

Looking at Catherine, Chris shrugs. "She bet me that the first thing out of either of your mouths would be a comment about our sunburn."

Chuckling, Catherine shakes her head. "Well, sorry, but you guys look ridiculous."

Sara snorts, "No argument from us there."

Quirking a brow, I playfully poke Chris in the chest. "Soooo, how was it?"

Immediately, Chris's face lights up like a Christmas tree. "Oh my God, Nancy. This woman is amazing. Sara literally saved my life about four times, and we got to summit _twice_."

Looking over to Sara, I catch her expression in time to see her roll her eyes. "Oh please, we used a set line. You wouldn't have fallen to your death even if I didn't snag you."

Chris is having absolutely none of it. "No way, Sara. I tried that climb when I first moved here with a buddy of mine. We didn't even make it half the distance up. First attempt with you, and we summit. I honestly haven't been this satisfied after a climb in all my life."

Raising my eyebrows, I can't help but chuckle. "You're lucky you're into women, Sara. Otherwise I think I would have to be engaging you in some sort of bitch fight for my man here."

Sara laughs, "There's that," she sends a glance to Catherine, "plus the fact that I'm already taken."

Catherine blushes slightly, a smile gracing her lips.

Chris clears his throat, a smile of his own spreading across his face as he raises his brows at me, "I think that is our cue to leave."

Nodding my head in agreement, I place my arm comfortably across his waist while putting my empty ice cream bowl on the porch table.

We send a wave and a smile to Sara and Catherine as we make our way to our respective cars.

"See you at home, hon," I tell Chris, hopping into my Honda while he steps into his BMW.

Pulling out of the driveway, I send one last glance toward the house.

Catherine is reaching out her hand, softly touching Sara's cheek.

Relieved to see their renewed interaction, I press on the accelerator and head home.

* * *

CATHERINE POV

Reaching out to Sara, I gently run my fingers along her face.

"Does it hurt?"

Shaking her head, she continues to look into my eyes.

Although the burn looks painful, I have to admit that Sara looks adorable with the red stripes running below her eyes and across her cheekbones.

"You sure?"

A slight smile graces her lips. "Positive."

Leaning forward, she places her lips gently on mine without a word.

At first the kiss is tentative, but soon we grow more comfortable and my hands are around her waist while hers are tangled in my hair. It feels so good to have Sara in my arms again like this, her calming energy radiating through me as we occupy each other's personal space.

Our tongues are getting reacquainted with one another as our kiss deepens when I suddenly hear her grunt.

"Shit, Sara, did I hurt you?"

Pulling away and taking a step back, I take in her grimace.

"Sara?"

She waves her hand at me, "No, no. It's not you, sorry."

When she looks up at me, I can see the conflict in her eyes.

Finally, she takes a breath and seems to reluctantly offer, "It's my leg."

I can tell it's hard for her to admit honestly that she is in pain, and I realize this is her trying to make good on her promise to start letting me in.

Stepping closer to her, I place my hand gently on her hip. "Thank you."

Looking back down, Sara nods her head, knowing exactly what I am thanking her for.

Clutching at her right thigh with one hand, the other balls itself into a frustrated fist.

Noting the thigh that she is holding, I place my own hand gently on her back. "The events of the day seem to have been a bit much for your bad leg, huh?"

Sara snorts, "I don't have a 'bad leg'. You make me sound like I'm elderly or something."

I laugh, "Okay then, your 'slightly shy of perfection' leg."

Sending me a look, Sara replies, "That's much better, thank you."

Her expression, however, quickly morphs into anguish as she flinches under a new jolt of pain.

"Come on," I urge her, placing my arm around her waist. "Let's get you inside and off your feet."

Sara nods without a word, her dark hair obscuring her expression. Tightening my hold, I place her arm around my shoulders. "You ready?"

"Yeah," she states, her voice low and tense.

Moving us slowly, I try to ignore her flinches of pain with every step. Her body has begun to shake by the time we enter the living room.

Making an executive decision, I keep us moving.

"Cath?" Sara's voice is questioning, almost desperate in its tone.

"I know, babe, just hang in there a minute more."

Her body is nearly doubled over in pain at this point, and I am all but dragging her through our room and into the master bath.

Reaching the cool tile of the bathroom floor, I lean Sara against the wall as I turn the water on in the shower.

Making sure the water is quite warm, I begin striping off my clothing.

Sara's strained voice draws my gaze to her, and I see that despite her obvious pain she is playfully quirking her brow at me.

"I'm starting to feel better already…this was a great idea."

Shaking my head, I try not to laugh. "I didn't bring you in here for a peep show, darling. You're coming in with me. The warm water is going to help relax that leg of yours."

Finishing with the removal of my clothing, I turn to Sara who is doing all she can to remain upright.

Approaching her, I try to read the expression in her eyes.

Looking up at me, she nods, "Go ahead."

Taking a breath, I reach out gently and place my fingers under the hem of her t-shirt. Pulling upward, I get her shirt as high as her shoulders. "Hold on to me with your left hand so you can lean away from the wall for a second."

Felling her hand place itself on my shoulder, I am able to get her shirt over her head. Leaning her back to the wall, I pull it the rest of the way off her arms.

Thankfully, due to the day of climbing, Sara is in a pair of shorts which I am able to slide down her long legs easily.

Slowly, and keeping my eye on her expression, I remove her undergarments.

Once all clothing has been removed, I place my arm back around her waist. Trying to ignore the feeling of her bare skin against mine, I direct us to the shower.

Sliding the glass door open, steam immediately encircles our bodies. Stepping inside, I gently position us under the hot spray as the door slides shut. Sara reaches out and takes a hold on the railing, but I am in no hurry to release my own grip on her.

Her eyes close, and I use the opportunity to look down and be sure that her leg is getting enough contact with the warm water. Seeing the deep scar from where she was stabbed just over a year ago, I can't help but marvel that Sara doesn't have these sorts of problems more often. She really has done a remarkable job of getting her leg as close to normal as possible.

Looking back up, I realize that Sara's eyes are open and she has caught me staring. "Is it feeling any better?"

Sara keeps her expression neutral. "It will."

Reaching behind her, I grab the bottle of shampoo.

"Turn around," I request gently.

With some effort, Sara gets herself turned around, her head tilted slightly to the side in order to watch me over her shoulder.

"That means your head, too, Miss Sidle."

Reluctantly, Sara turns her head slowly to face the front of the shower, the spray hitting her torso.

Reaching out my hand, I gently press the back of her head down so that her hair gets wet. Pouring the shampoo into my palm, I begin lathering it into her hair. I spend more time than I need to massage the suds into her scalp, hoping that the action will serve more to offer her some calming relief from her leg than provide her with clean hair.

Once again directing her head under the water, I gently run my fingers through her hair until all the shampoo is gone.

Pulling her head back up, Sara turns her body around to face me.

She doesn't say anything, but the look in her eye is enough to send my hand traveling towards her side. My fingers move their way slowly along the tattoo that runs down her ribcage.

Reaching out her free hand, Sara takes my breath away as she trails her fingertips down my abdomen, coming to rest on my hip.

Her other hand pulls itself from the shower rail, burying itself in the curls along the nape of my neck.

"Sara…" I state gently, taking in her slightly unsteady stance.

"Shh," she gently silences me, "it's fine."

I'm not quite convinced, but any possible protests are quieted as she closes the space between us and presses her lips to mine.

The kiss deepens quickly, and I have both of my arms wrapped tightly around her neck. Not able to suppress my moan, I feel my back come into contact with the wall of the shower. Sara has moved from my mouth to my neck, leaving a trail of sweltering kisses as she makes her way to my shoulder. I had been so lost in the journey of her lips that I literally gasp in surprise when I feel her fingers enter me.

She starts to pull away slightly, perhaps misinterpreting my gasp, and I eagerly pull her firmly back to me. Getting the hint, Sara continues her ministrations with renewed fervor.

Before long, I am literally trembling with ecstasy under her touch.

Holding tightly onto her strong shoulders as I slowly come back to earth, she is gently rocking me under the falling water.

Eventually, Sara pulls far enough away that she can look me in the eyes. Her hazel gaze is piercing, water dripping from her dark lashes.

"I missed you," she says softly, and I know that she isn't talking about our time apart today.

I lay my head on her shoulder, "I was such an idiot, Sara. I am so sorry."

Sara tightens her grip on me. "I know, and I forgive you. I should have told you that right away, I was selfish to ignore your apologies like that."

"Sara," I begin, my tone deliberate, "I had just assaulted you. I think that qualifies you to have some time to be angry with me. Hell, I'm shocked you're not still mad."

She rests her chin atop my head. "All I could think about while I was climbing was that if anything were to happen to either of us today, I would never forgive myself for ever wasting a moment of our time together on this planet with worthless anger."

Pulling away, I see the depth of emotion swirling through her eyes. "I know you would never hurt me, Catherine. Not intentionally."

I am about to comment when her voice stops me.

"I let myself fall back into the memories of my past, circumscribing you into those dark memories." Her voice is soft but adamant, "You, the brightest part of my life, had no place being there."

I raise my hand, gently tracing my fingers along her jaw line. I don't know how to respond to the reference to her past, so I settle on the one thing I know for sure I am feeling right now.

"I love you, Sara."

Responding with a soft kiss along my temple, she doesn't have to say the words back to me for me to know I am loved in return.

I hear her chuckle slightly, and she finally pulls away from me.

"You mind if we take this outside the icebox?"

Immediately, my body registers the meaning behind her words.

I hadn't noticed at all the water had turned arctic in temperature.

I guess being intimately engaged with the woman of your fantasies will give you a bit of tunnel vision.

Taking Sara by the arm, I usher both of our bodies out of the shower after shutting off the water.

I know Sara, and I know that what happened in the lab when I forced myself on her bothers her more than she is letting on. I understand that it will be awhile before she is truly over it, but I recognize and completely respect her desire to move on. And I know that she meant everything she said regardless of any reservations she still has.

Sara grabs a towel off the towel bar and begins to dry my hair for me. I can't help but chuckle as she gets a bit overzealous and ruffles my hair with fervor.

Pulling the towel away, I can see the playful smirk on her face.

"Thanks, hon," I say sarcastically, "but I think I got it from here."

Grabbing the towel, I quickly finish drying the rest of my body off. Taking pity on her shivering form, I toss the towel gently on her head.

Pulling it off, Sara anxiously dries the water droplets from her hair and skin.

Opening the bathroom door and stepping into our bedroom, I grab a pair of jeans and a blouse. Hearing Sara saunter up beside me, she grabs some clothing for herself.

"Sara," I slightly scold, "I came in here to get your clothes as well. You're limping like you just got stabbed yesterday - you should be staying off your feet."

Shaking her head, Sara is already stepping awkwardly into her clothing, pulling her jeans over wobbling legs. "Nope, the shower did the trick – even though I think it was the cold water rather than the warm strangely enough that got my leg to behave itself."

I send her a look that expresses my opinion that she looks about two continents away from being better.

"Really, I promise. It barely hurts anymore, the limp is just from the muscle being fatigued from climbing today."

Seeing the dubious look still painted across my features, Sara closes the space between us, loosely draping her arms over my shoulders.

"Cath, if this whole 'letting you in' thing is going to work, you have to trust me when I tell you that I'm fine."

My shoulders slump a bit, the fight in me beginning to seep out onto the floorboards and pool around my feet.

"I just fear that me and you have very different definitions of 'fine'," I tell her honestly.

Lifting onto my tiptoes, I place a soft kiss on her lips. "But, your point is noted and I'll try my best."

Nodding, Sara gives me a warm smile and a gentle kiss back. "Thank you."

* * *

CATHERINE POV

Grabbing my coffee and bringing the rough plastic lid to my lips, I swallow deeply. Feeling the burn as it hits my throat, I travel on the road of the illogical and take another large gulp.

This case is like a frozen lake.

You jump in and the water is so cold that you feel like you are being ripped apart by a thousand little knives. Then, after extreme efforts wrought with pain you manage to crawl out, earning a break from its icy claws.

Now, how would you feel about jumping back in to spend even just another minute in the water?

That's what yesterday was – a break from the frozen water and its little knife friends. And today? Today is being forced to jump back in.

All our other cases have been closed, and I find myself almost wishing someone would go and get themselves murdered so that I could have another brief reprieve.

Almost.

Swapping out another set of pictures, I continue to stare at images of the latest crime scene.

My stomach is grumbling, but taking in the images of severed tongues to my right and empty eye sockets to my left, I feel nothing but revulsion at the mere thought of eating something right now.

Soon, I hear footsteps approaching, and I know Sara has entered the room without having to turn around. It's almost eerie how deeply attuned we are to one another.

She steps up behind me and places her hand on my shoulder.

Moving out from under her touch and putting distance between us, I glance back at her just in time to see hurt flash across her eyes.

I wish I could blame my reaction on the case, on the grotesque photos wallpapering this room, on anything other than the real reason I averted her touch.

Because, right now, the only thing worse than the images surrounding me are the ones flashing through my head.

Last night as I was beginning to drift off, I happened to glance over at Sara as she read her book by the dim light of the lamp. At first, I thought the odd coloration on the skin of her wrists was shadows being cast by the muted lighting.

But then, I realized that shadows do not usually present themselves in the shape of fingers. And, if I needed any more evidence, there is no way the light from the lamp would be falling in such a way that the shadows would be nearly identical on both wrists.

It didn't take long for my brain to fill in the blanks. It's really not hard to figure out where those marks came from – the only mystery in the situation lying with how long it took me to notice them.

Hadn't we just taken a shower together naked? Where were my skills of observation then?

"Cath?"

Sara's voice is quiet, but the concern reads loud and clear.

"What's going on, Catherine?" she repeats when I don't immediately answer. She looks like she wants to step closer to me, but for right now is working hard to respect the space I so deliberately put between us.

"Nothing," I reply.

It's obvious to the brunette that I'm lying, and her expression grows a bit dark at being so obviously shut out.

Especially since I just lectured her the other day about this very thing. About her letting me in more. I might as well change my middle name to Hypocrite.

"Alright," she states, hurt evident in her voice. "I just came in here to tell you that Trace came back on the stains found on the carpet at the last scene. It's craft paint, and since there weren't any hand painted pictures in the house, we are trying to hunt down the manufacturer."

It's not a lot, but at least it's something.

"Okay, thanks," I tell her, turning back to my work.

"Yeah," she mutters with a defeated breath, taking the hint and leaving the room without another word.

Running my hand through my hair in frustration, I know that it will be hard to concentrate on much of anything. It's not fair to Sara, who told me openly and honestly that she has forgiven me and is willing to move on, that I am now shutting her out because _I _am the one unable to move forward.

Shaking my head, I just can't get past the fact that I have hurt her yet again. My actions that day in the lab bothered me before, but seeing that my aggression had caused her actual physical harm, I feel a renewed repulsion towards myself.

Sara entered this relationship fearing that she would slip up and hurt me one day. How is it that after I have already slipped up and hurt her that she is still with me.

If this had occurred the other way around, it would have been a deal breaker for the brunette.

If she had been the one to lay her hands on me, Sara would have left me instantly and have been on a plane moving halfway across the country by now to protect me from this relationship.

But, because it was me that was the aggressor and not her, she's willing to stay.

Sara deserves better.

But, just as I was angry when Sara tried to decide what was best for me, who am I to try to decide what is best for Sara?

Still, it's difficult to allow myself to be close to her right now.

Taking a breath, I force the whirlpool of thoughts from my mind. There's no way I am going to be able to figure this all out right now, so why waste my time and energy.

Picking up another crime scene photo, I force myself to look at its image.

Staring at more of the same carnage I've been looking at for the last two hours, I feel my sanity slowly spilling itself out across the pixels.

* * *

Stepping into the courtyard at the end of shift, I let out a relieved breath as I see Sara hunched over a case file at one of the picnic tables. After looking through the entire lab, I was beginning to worry that she had gone home for the night without letting me know.

Hearing my approach, she looks up, closing the file to give me her full attention. "Hey."

Her voice is neutral, but I can tell that she is a bit hesitant around me.

"Hey, you ready to head home?"

She doesn't immediately respond, and I take a seat across from her.

"I don't know, I was kind of thinking about sticking around for awhile. There are a couple more ideas I have about these messages that I wanted to try out," she says, gesturing to her copy of the Vergenson case file.

Deciding that perhaps some time apart is best, I tell her, "Okay."

Getting up to leave, she reaches out to take my hand. As I pull away from her once again, I see her shake her head.

Her voice is troubled, "Cath, what did I do?"

Looking at her, I can see the lost expression clearly displayed on her features.

"You didn't do anything, Sara."

Her expression grows cloudy, and her arms cross themselves slowly against her chest.

"Bullshit, Cath."

Taking a breath and adopting a softer tone, she looks at me pleadingly. "Just tell me what I did wrong. I'll fix it, I promise."

I hate that Sara is blaming herself for my behavior, and I'm torn about what to do.

However, I know for certain that I'm not ready to discuss my fears with her just yet.

"It's not you, Sara," I say again, trying futilely to reassure her.

I literally see her shut down, walls that haven't been up in a long time are once again raised.

"You won't let me touch you and you are completely shutting me out. I'm sorry, but I am having a hard time believing you."

Sara stands, her long frame all but towering over me.

Her voice is quiet, "I'm not going to push you, Catherine. Let me know when you're ready to talk and I'll be there to listen."

Turning away, she makes her way back into the lab, her shoulders tight.

Dropping my head into my hands, I register the empty feeling spreading across my chest.

My plan of avoiding the issue in order to move on and not hurt Sara anymore seems to be off to a fucking brilliant start.

* * *

**AN: Oh dear. Thank you for reading. As always, your thoughts and reviews are welcome. **


	10. Chapter 10

**AN: Thank you VERY VERY much to those who reviewed the last chapter – your kind words and support of this story truly mean so much to me. You all inspire me and help keep the writing going. **

**Hope everything is well with everyone and hope you enjoy a bit of an extra long chapter :) **

* * *

CATHERINE POV

During the next week, I find myself repeating the same pattern of avoiding Sara's touch, as well as Sara herself.

The past couple days in particular, I have pulled even farther away from her, emotionally as well as physically. I feel like I am riding along a vicious cycle, unaware of how to get myself off. I feel abhorred at the idea that I hurt Sara, so I have been reluctant to be physical with her. That, in turn, is doing nothing but hurting us both emotionally. The guilt of hurting her emotionally then makes me feel unworthy of receiving her caring touches and her comforting hugs.

Fucking hell, right now, I am pretty much at a complete loss.

Sara has elected to stay longer at work again tonight, and I can't say I blame her. I really can't blame her at all.

Pulling into the drive dejectedly, I am surprised to see Nancy napping on our porch swing.

I notice her eyes flutter open as I put the key into the front door and I send her a small smile. "Don't you have a home, woman?"

Nancy laughs, rubbing her face. "Chris is on a trip for work this week…" she begins, her voice trailing off.

"And you're lonely," I finish for her.

Her cheeks blush slightly, "Something like that."

"Well," I state warmly, "I'm always happy to have you here."

Nodding, she looks back at the driveway.

"Speaking of lonely, where is Sara?" she asks.

"Still at work," I answer vaguely.

Apparently, Nancy is able to read enough into my guarded tone that she doesn't pry further. Heading inside and grabbing a book, I step back out onto the porch to join my sister.

I reach about page 12 before Nancy's restraint fails her.

"Catherine?" She is hesitant, and with the vibes I am probably giving off right now, I think her hesitance is warranted.

"Yes?"

My eyes don't leave the crisp pages of my book.

"Is everything okay with you? Forgive me for saying this, but you've seemed a bit…upset…lately."

"Everything is fine, Nancy."

Pulling my book down with her hand, Nancy sends me a look. "Come on, Catherine, please be honest with me."

Forced to look up at her since I no longer have my book as a decoy, I meet her dead in the eye. "Nancy, I _am_ being honest."

Shaking her head, her expression is marred with hurt. "You look like you haven't slept in a week, I doubt you've been eating, and the permanent scowl on your face isn't quite your best look."

She turns away, saying, "If you don't want to tell me, that's one thing. But don't sit here and lie to me by telling me nothing's wrong."

Rubbing my temples, I take a calming breath. "I don't know what else to say, Nancy. As I told you, nothing _is_ wrong, so just leave it alone."

My sister snorts in irritation, "Fine, whatever you say."

We don't speak for awhile, Nancy looking out into the night with crossed arms and me occasionally turning the pages of my book to keep up the illusion that I am reading a damn thing it has to say. The charged silence eventually being broken by the sound of Sara's SUV pulling into the drive close to an hour later. As if things weren't tense enough already.

The brunette steps across the drive and makes her way up the porch steps. If the set of her shoulders and the way she desperately trying to cover up her limp are any indication, she is exhausted.

I feel a new wave of guilt pass through me.

I really need to figure things out so I can stop torturing both of us. Each time I try, however, I keep seeing myself hitting her to convince her to love me, and then sexually assaulting her because I needed an emotional escape.

Looking over at us, her dark eyes narrow slightly. Sara is perceptive, and I know that she is able to clearly pick up on the tension radiating from my sister and me.

"Hey," she offers neutrally.

Nancy sends her a small wave, and I offer her what I'm sure looks like the fakest smile to ever grace human lips.

When she sits herself down against the porch railing, I get to my feet. "I'm going to head to bed."

Sara closes her eyes for a brief moment, visibly hurt by my continued avoidance of her.

Nancy reaches out and squeezes my hand. "Goodnight."

I know she is still upset with me, but one of the best things about my sister is that she isn't really into the silent treatment or holding a grudge.

I squeeze her hand in return, "'Night."

Sara stands, lifting her hand to gently reach out to me, to stop me from walking away from her yet again. I hate myself for it, but I shun her touch just as I have day after day, stepping around her to the door.

"Goodnight, Sara," I inadequately offer her.

Shaking her head, for the first time this whole week Sara doesn't respond.

I idly wonder if I have finally pushed Sara so far away that she is beginning to stop trying to fight her way back to me.

With a sigh, I enter the house and close the door behind me with a deafening click.

* * *

NANCY POV

Sara looks absolutely shattered; there is no other way to describe the devastation splayed across her dark features. And, after seeing my sister avoid the brunette's touch, the brunette that she loves more than anything on this planet, I know for sure there is something going on with Catherine.

Sara's hands are clenched tightly at her side as she continues to stare at the door that Catherine disappeared through moments ago, her jaw set.

Before I know what is happening, she turns away and punches the porch railing as hard as she can.

"Sara," I call, stepping up behind her.

She doesn't respond, instead clenching the porch railing with both hands so tightly that her fingers have turned white. Pulling her hands away no more than a minute later in frustration, she begins to pace as best she can on her weakened leg.

Approaching her after about the fifth fevered trip back and forth, I place my hands on her sides, holding her firmly in place.

"Sara, calm down."

She turns her gaze on me, eyes smoldering.

Her fists are still clenched tightly, but she finally forces herself to take a deep breath.

"Come on," I urge her, "sit down. You look like you are going to fall over."

Shaking her head, Sara closes her eyes briefly. "I can't right now. I just…".

Her voice trails off, and I can tell that she is much too upset to sit still in one place.

Rubbing her side gently, I nod, "Okay, this is fine."

Eventually, after more than a few moments of tense silence, I feel some of the stiffness depart from her thin frame. Her dark gaze is directed out into the night.

"I'm sorry I lost it like that in front of you, Nancy," she says after a pause, a mixture of defeat and regret now coloring her words.

I remove my hands from her sides. "It's alright, Sar. You've been there during many of my meltdowns, it's about time I returned the favor."

Sara nods halfheartedly.

"You want to tell me what all that was about?"

Shaking her head, Sara turns slightly away from me so she can have some space. "Your guess is as good as mine."

"Really?" I ask, although her voice sounded genuinely lost and I have a feeling her response wasn't an exaggeration.

"Really."

She lowers her head as she adds dejectedly, "I wish she would just tell me what the hell I did so I would know where I need to begin fixing things."

I take in her defeated posture. "How do you know it was something _you _did?"

She glances at me, her hazel eyes raw with what I imagine to be days of pent up frustration. "This whole week, she won't let me touch her. She barely acknowledges me when I'm in the room, and that's when she isn't all out leaving the room because I have entered it. It's like she wants absolutely nothing to do with me."

"Are you sure it's just you?"

She nods, "Yeah, she's fine with everyone else at work."

She looks back out into the night.

"Like tonight with you, she was fine with you holding her hand, but the second I approach her she turns away, she leaves."

I wish I could argue, but from what I observed she is absolutely right. In an attempt to give her some comfort, I reveal to her that I noticed something was up with Catherine but that she refused to open up to me as well. That maybe Sara is the only one she is shutting out physically, but she isn't the only one she is shutting out emotionally.

"I don't know what's going on with her, Nancy." Sara's body language begins to grow tense again. "I'm worried about her…and I just don't know what the right thing to do is anymore."

Looking at me, she elaborates on her meaning. "She stiffens when I am near her, she turns away when I approach her. It's making me feel like I'm torturing her simply by being around." Her voice grows quiet, "I don't know how much longer I can stand this, I feel like I am upsetting her more and more every day and I have no idea why, no idea what I have done. No idea how to help her."

There is a pause.

"If she wants me to leave, I wish she would say so. I hate feeling like I am hurting her by simply being around her. If me leaving is what she needs to stop hurting, hell, if I _am_ the reason she's hurting, she just needs to tell me and I'll go. God, I'll go."

Taking in her words, the shadows under her eyes, her dark expression, the way she is keeping her weight off her right leg, I make a snap decision.

Palming my keys, I step towards her and gesture to my car. "Come on."

Sara knits her brows. "Where are we going?"

"Not that it really fucking matters," she adds quietly.

"You need to get out and give yourself a break from things," I state, taking hold of her arm. "Your case at work, this stuff with Catherine - you need to let go of some of it, even for just a couple hours, before you implode."

Seeing her about to protest regarding her ability to handle things on her own, I turn the focus to me. "I need a night to forget everything as well, Sara. Please."

It's not a lie, either. I'm worried about my sister, and I know that until she lets me in there is nothing I can do. Doesn't mean I enjoy just sitting here waiting for her to let me in while I know she suffering alone for as long as she decides to keep pushing me away.

Finally, Sara nods and I tighten my hold on her arm to help her down the steps.

She removes her arm from my grip when we reach solid ground, her voice gentle but firm, "I got it."

Respecting her need for independence and some extra personal space tonight, I reluctantly let go and try not to shake my head as I watch her limp her way to my passenger seat.

* * *

When we arrive at our destination a short time later, I swing my car swiftly into the broken asphalt of the lot.

Sara snorts, "You took us to a bar?"

I shrug, taking in the flashing neon sign.

"You have someplace else you would rather go?"

Her face grows serious and she responds with acknowledgment in her eyes, "Actually, no."

Sara makes a move to get out of my Honda, but I place my hand gently on her leg to stop her. Turning her questioning expression to me, I gesture to her hand.

"I think it's best if we clean that off before going inside. Something tells me it may be a bit of a health hazard."

Looking confused, Sara finally glances down at her hand, her knuckles bloodied from punching the porch railing earlier. "Oh. Sorry."

Taking a half full bottle of water out of my cup holder, she holds it up to me. "You mind?"

Shaking my head no, I watch as she opens the door and pours the water out over her knuckles. Then, scrubbing them with her free hand, she rubs it dry on her dark jeans. Placing the water bottle back in my car, she sends me a small smile and a quick "Thanks" before exiting the vehicle.

Shaking my head, I mutter, "No problem", along with some expletives involving infection and proper sanitation into the now empty interior of my car before exiting myself.

Making our way inside, I am relieved to find an open booth in the back of the otherwise crowded bar.

Taking a seat on the chipped wooden bench across from the brunette, we order a round of tequila shots from a waitress who looks like she applied her make up with a paintbrush. Sara's eyes carefully scan the room, and I idly wonder if it's a Sara thing or a CSI thing.

Before long, the waitress returns with our drinks and we attempt to offer our thanks to her over the pounding music coming from the dance floor. Picking up my shot glass, I down my drink in one swift motion.

Sara raises a brow at me, leaning a bit across the table so it is easier for me to hear her.

"If you want, I can cut myself off after this one so you can drink as much as you want without having to worry about driving us home."

I smile at her gesture, but I know how much Sara needs this night of oblivion. "Thanks, but I've pretty much resigned this to be a cab night."

Looking at me with sympathetic eyes, she questions, "You sure?"

Pushing her drink towards her, I adamantly nod my head. "I'm sure."

Finally, she shrugs and picks up the drink, downing it just as quickly as I did mine.

Over the next couple hours, we don't talk about anything of significance. There is no talk about work, no talk about Catherine. The shots keep coming and going at a reasonable pace, and I can't help but close my eyes at the blissful feeling of numbness that has begun washing over me.

Sara is sitting comfortably on her side of the table, her expression still guarded but finally losing some of its edge.

"Nancy?" Sara calls to me, her voice hoarse from a combination of the alcohol and the continued effort of yelling across the table in order to be heard.

"What?" My own voice sounds strained as well.

"Thank you," she yells.

"For what?"

"For knowing that this is what I needed and not being afraid to offer it to me."

Nodding, I place my hand over hers. "You're welcome. Very rarely, alcohol _is_ actually the answer."

Smiling, Sara squeezes my hand before pulling away.

"Nancy?" Sara asks again.

"What?"

"Thank you."

Maybe it's the alcohol, but I feel like I already lived this moment.

"For what?"

She shrugs, "Just for being my friend, I guess. I don't think I tell you often enough that I appreciate having you in my life."

I laugh, "You are so drunk."

She smirks, shrugging, "Probably, but the sentiment still stands."

I smile, deciding to quit yanking her chain and just accept her gratitude. Sara isn't often a sentimental person, and whether it comes as a result of the alcohol or not it's a moment and a declaration that I will cherish.

"You're welcome."

Just as the waitress brings us another round, a tall gentleman approaches her from behind and hands her a fifty dollar bill.

"The next couple rounds are on me," he states in a deep baritone voice that is easily heard through the racing music.

Our waitress nods, heading back towards the bar without a word.

Picking up my drink, I tip it in the air towards him.

"Thanks," I yell, downing it swiftly.

Sara is looking at him warily, keeping her eye on him as she swallows her own shot.

I smile, leave it to Sara to have reservations about a person buying us free drinks. I think the brunette would question Santa Claus at gunpoint regarding what he is doing in her house on Christmas morning.

"My pleasure," the mystery guy states with a wink.

"My name is Thomas, by the way," he offers, extending his hand. "You can call me Tom."

I shake it, "Nancy."

He holds his hand out to Sara, but pulls it away awkwardly when she refuses to offer hers in return.

"Something wrong with your friend here?" Tom asks me, pointing to Sara.

"She doesn't talk to strangers," I state with a shrug, ignoring the glare she sends my way.

Tom leans in, his breath close to my ear. "Well, hopefully after tonight we all won't be strangers anymore."

Not wanting him to get the wrong idea, I place my hand on his chest and gently push him back. "I should let you know I am in a relationship, and Sara is taken as well. I don't want to give you the wrong impression here."

Tom shrugs, and if anything he seems even more interested.

"That's never stopped me before."

Suddenly feeling a bit uneasy with the situation, I begin wishing I hadn't had the last few shots I took. I was drunk before, now I am absolutely wasted. I hate not having a clear head for moments like these, and with the shot I just downed seconds ago it's only going to get worse.

"Really, Tom, I'm flattered. But like I said, we aren't available, and we certainly aren't looking to become available."

Tom purses his lips, pretending to pout.

"Well that's just too bad then, isn't it?"

I don't like his tone, and I really don't like the way he is leering at me.

He sits himself next to me, and as if in slow motion, I see his hand begin to reach for my thigh, his lips making their way to my neck.

Feeling his warm, sweaty fingers come in contact with my leg, I try unsuccessfully to push away from him as his hand moves higher and higher, the bar swirling around me while the music pulses mercilessly.

"Shh, just relax, baby," I feel him whisper into my ear, his hot breath thick and moist.

I close my eyes tight, wishing I was anywhere but where I am right now. Wishing it all would end.

I feel completely helpless, and I hate to admit that I am terrified.

I am absolutely terrified.

Suddenly, my eyes snap open as I hear Sara jerk her way out of her side of the booth. Without a word she grabs Tom by the shoulders, pulling him as hard as she can to get him up and away from me.

"She said she wasn't interested, you son of a bitch."

Her voice is low, threatening.

Tom grows embarrassed, which quickly turns to anger.

His tall frame begins advancing back on us, and I stand just as he reaches out for Sara. Grabbing his well muscled arm futilely to try to keep his grimy hands off the brunette, I grunt as his elbow jerks back and connects with my face.

I don't think my nose is broken, but the blood beginning to ooze out pisses me off all the same.

By this time, he has gotten Sara pushed back into the table, and I hold my breath as Sara swings her arm around to punch him across the face.

Making contact quite solidly, he is stunned enough by the force behind the blow to loosen his grip on her a bit.

Taking advantage of the situation, Sara tries to push herself free of him despite his superior size. She is just about out of his hold when he grabs her by the hair and twists her around.

Before I can move, he slams her face into the table. The sound of glass shattering is absolutely deafening.

He lets go of her, finally seeming to come to his senses as he turns to find most of the bar staring at him in shocked horror. I'm not sure when the music stopped.

Quickly putting a hand over his face in a pathetic attempt to hide his identity, he shoves his way roughly through the crowd towards the exit. I don't know if he ever reaches it or not, because my focus is on Sara who is now pushing herself awkwardly off the table.

As she turns, I clench my fists and feel an uncharacteristic rage building inside of me at what I see. There is a shard of a shattered shot glass slicing through the skin near her temple. She has a small cut through her eyebrow and some scraping along her cheek as well.

Swallowing the blood trickling down my throat from my nose with disgust, I begin to approach her. Right away, she holds her arm out to keep me back.

She reaches her hand up towards her face, fingers coming into contact with the glass.

"Sara, don't touch it," I plead, knowing full well she won't listen to me.

Sure enough, she quickly pulls the glass out, ignoring the blood now sliding slowly down her face as she tosses the shard absently onto the table and turns back to me.

"Are you alright?" she asks me, looking me over desperately, her worried eyes stopping at my bleeding nose.

"I'm fine," I reassure her, "it's not broken."

Reluctantly, she nods her head, not really looking all that convinced but understanding she can't argue with me at the moment. "We need to get out of here."

Just as she says it, I realize that we are being approached by a large man in a security uniform. Sara looks like she is debating whether or not to try to head for the exit, but she elects to stay put with a frustrated sigh.

"Ladies, are you alright?" The officer asks with concern, taking in our battered appearance.

"We're fine," Sara replies quickly. "Can we go?"

The security guard looks a bit taken aback, "We called the cops, figuring you two would want to press charges…they should be here any minute."

Noticing Sara's dark expression, he offers, "You are welcome to wait outside for them if you want."

Nodding, Sara takes my arm and guides me out of the bar.

I hate to admit how unsteady I am on my feet right now as Sara is all but holding me upright. I am damn lucky Sara was there and stepped in when she did, otherwise I don't know how far that guy could have gotten with me alone and inebriated in that back booth.

Reaching the cool night air, Sara keeps a steadying arm around me while she pulls out her phone with her free hand.

"Are you really alright?" she demands, fixing me with a look that clearly indicates I shouldn't bother even trying to lie to her.

"I'm fine, I promise," I tell her, keeping my eyes locked with hers so she can see for herself I am being honest.

"What are you doing?" I ask regarding the phone in her hand, attempting to wipe the last of the blood from my face while maintaining my balance.

"Calling a cab," she replies without emotion, finally dropping her concerned gaze from mine after a moment to focus on the numbers on the phone.

I reach out to still her dialing fingers, "But the cops are coming, we can't just leave."

Glancing over at me, her expression is almost regretful. "Nancy, I know most of the cops that are on shift tonight, and the last thing I need is to have to explain my involvement in a bar fight to one of my coworkers."

Realizing the possible career implications this has for the brunette, I release her hand so she can resume her dialing. Her attempt is cut short, however, when a squad car pulls swiftly into the parking lot and shines its spot light directly on us.

"Fuck," Sara mutters, dejectedly shoving her phone back into her pocket with a sigh.

I see a blond woman step out of the car and I feel Sara stiffen. I figure this particular coworker is not someone she had hoped to see covering this call.

"Sidle?"

The officer's voice is surprised, and despite the spotlight already on us she is shining her flashlight in Sara's face with shock.

"Sofia," Sara mutters, attempting to shield her eyes from the added glare.

"You mind pointing that thing somewhere else?" I cut in tentatively after a moment, feeling a bit bad for the brunette.

"Oh," the woman says, immediately aiming the beam to the ground, "Sorry, I didn't realize."

Sara shakes her head, "It's fine."

"What the hell happened, Sara? I got a call about a bar fight?" she questions, reaching her hand out towards Sara's injured face.

Immediately, Sara pulls away, causing her arm to drop from my back and the cop's brows to furrow in concern.

"Some guy tried to force himself on Nancy, things got a bit heated and he took off."

I can't help but smile at Sara's ability to make any major life event seem like just another day.

"I'm Nancy, by the way," I offer hesitantly to the woman I now know as Sofia. "There was a guy who bought us drinks, then he started coming onto me. I told him I wasn't interested, but he wouldn't take no for an answer. He put his hand suggestively on my thigh, and I tried to get away but couldn't. Sara pulled him off me. He pushed Sara into the table, and I caught an elbow to the face. Sara was able to get in a punch before he slammed her face onto the table. He finally seemed to realize what he was doing and ran out of the bar."

Sofia nods, silently thanking me for my elaboration.

"You want to press charges?"

She is addressing the question to me, likely knowing already what Sara's answer will be.

"No, I just want to forget it ever happened, to be quite honest."

It's true, but mostly I don't want to drag Sara into it. I know that her name will have to be included in any official record of events, and I don't want to cause any trouble for her at her workplace.

Looking back to Sara, the blonde tries to meet the brunette's eyes. "What about you, Sara?"

Shaking her head, Sara meets her gaze for a second before looking away. "No."

Sighing, Sofia nods her head.

"Alright then, no charges will be pressed."

Without warning, Sofia reaches out her hand and takes hold of the brunette's chin.

Sara tries to pull away again, her teeth clenched tightly in anger, but Sofia grabs her shoulder firmly to keep her in place. Despite her continued efforts, Sara is much too inebriated and outweighed to stand any real chance of getting away.

Turning the brunette's head towards the light emitted from her squad car, Sofia grimaces as she takes in the gash across Sara's temple - which has now bled all the way down to her shirt.

"You need to get this looked at, Sara," Sofia states, her tone leaving no room for argument.

At least, that's what I thought.

"I'm fine," Sara's voice is low, her jaw clenched tightly.

"Sara…" Sofia's tone loses some of its edge, now taking on the emotion of a concerned friend. "Just relax, okay? Let me get you medical attention."

"No," Sara replies, her tone adamant.

Finally meeting the blonde's gaze, she pierces her with a dark expression, "Please take your hands off me."

Despite Sara's request that sounded to me more like a threat, the blond doesn't remove her hold. Instead, she steps even closer, looking pointedly into Sara's eyes.

"You're drunk, Sara. I can claim you as judgmentally impaired and force you to a hospital to receive care."

Sara's jaw clenches even tighter, her hazel eyes squarely on the cop's. "You could, but I'm asking you not to."

Sofia stares at Sara awhile longer, then finally releases her grip.

Immediately, Sara takes a step away from her.

Turning to me, Sofia gives me a once over.

"You sure you're alright?" she asks, gesturing to my nose which I'm sure is still smeared with dried blood. "You don't have to be like the stubborn dumbass over here - I can get you medical help if you need it."

"I'm fine, honest. I'm a nurse and I know quite well what a fractured nose feels like, and this isn't it."

Seemingly satisfied, she gestures to her car. "Come on, I'll give you guys a ride home."

I nod, taking note of Sara's tense form and dark expression with concern. I'm sure Sara didn't appreciate being called a stubborn dumbass, not to mention being essentially manhandled by the blond, and I can only hope she isn't drunk enough to try to do something about it.

Finally, the brunette takes a breath and walks the short distance to the squad car.

"You need some help?" Sofia offers, seeing Sara's limp and awkward gait.

"No," Sara replies pointedly.

"Didn't think so," Sofia states with a chuckle as she climbs into the car as well.

Once we are all situated, Sofia follows Sara's terse directions to her house, the trees and houses racing by in a blurry smear of black and grey hues. Reaching our destination, Sara and I climb out in silence. Sara resumes her position with her arm around my waist to ensure I will remain upright.

Just as we turn to head up the drive, Sofia calls Sara's name.

Turning, Sara furrows her brow.

"This will stay between us, you have my word," Sofia tells Sara, her voice soft, caring.

Sara turns her head, shadows falling across her features before finally returning the intense gaze of the blond with a penetrating gaze of her own.

"Thank you."

Sofia nods, and without another word backs her car out of the drive and pulls away.

Running her hand through her hair with a sigh, Sara begins walking us up the porch. When we reach the front door, I pull away and take her hand in mine.

Turning at the unexpected gesture, Sara takes in my expression.

"What's wrong?" she asks with worry.

"Nothing, I just wanted to thank you. You know, for stepping into the middle of things for me tonight."

She smiles slightly, "You don't thank friends for doing something like that, it's a part of the job."

Nodding, I pull her in for a hug, relieved when I finally feel her arms wrap themselves around me in return.

"Not everyone carries out the duties of the job as well as you do," I tell her seriously.

Sara pulls away, again looking closely at my face. "You sure you're alright? If that bastard hurt you…"

Shaking my head, I place my hand gently on her good cheek, "I'm fine, stop asking me that."

Taking a breath, Sara finally seems convinced. I think she knows me well enough at this point to recognize I wouldn't lie to her about being hurt.

Looking sheepishly up at the house, she turns her gaze back to me.

"What the hell do we do now?"

I chuckle, equally at a loss for what to do. Something tells me my sister will be less than impressed with our current state of disarray.

Shrugging, I gesture to the door. "I guess we head in, and hope that we discover this was all just a messed up dream when we wake up in the morning."

Sara snorts, "Sounds like a fine plan to me."

After a few clumsy attempts, Sara finally gets the key in the lock. Stepping inside, I can't help but stifle a laugh as we take turns colliding into various objects with our shins as we attempt to make our way across the pitch black living room.

My laughter is cut short, however, when the lights click on, illuminating the scene with harsh clarity.

Turning my head, I see Catherine standing along the wall, her hand frozen near the light switch.

Shit.

* * *

NANCY POV

"What in the hell…?" Catherine asks, her voice trailing off. Her eyes are darting frantically between us, not sure who to focus on first. Eventually, her eyes settle on me, and she slowly crosses the room to stop mere inches away.

Her eyes fall to my face, and she reaches out her hand to gently touch near my bloodied nose.

"What the hell happened, are you alright?"

I nod, taking her other hand in mine to squeeze it reassuringly. "It's just bruised, I'm fine."

Assessing me carefully with wide eyes, she seems far from convinced.

"What happened, Nancy?" she repeats, her voice stern enough that it leaves me without the ability to avoid answering.

"We went out for a drink tonight, there was a guy at the bar who got a bit too touchy and Sara stepped in to put an end to things."

Now look who's the one giving out abridged versions of the evening.

Her eyes grow even wider, and then narrow dangerously.

Turning, she all but glares in Sara's direction. "What you mean is, you got yourselves into a bar fight?"

I try to find the appropriate words with which to respond, words that will make the altercation at the bar seem like just another night out on the town instead of the dangerous brawl she is insinuating it was.

Not surprisingly, the words don't come.

Catherine is already moving from me towards Sara.

Angrily, she points her finger harshly into Sara's chest, "Did you learn nothing from your last bar fight? What, one stabbing wasn't enough for you?"

"Catherine," I call out in Sara's defense, "we were minding our own business when some asshole tried to feel me up. I couldn't get away from him, and Sara thankfully interceded. I was terrified, Catherine. She kept me safe."

At first, I'm not sure that my sister even heard me, but slowly her shoulders begin to slump as the anger drains out of her.

Reaching out her hand gently this time, she turns Sara's face to look at the damage.

Taking in a breath, she whispers, "God, Sara. Are you alright?"

I literally jump at the suddenness with which Sara pulls away from my sister.

The brunette's voice is eerily calm, but her eyes are dripping fire. "Now you care? Now we can touch each other again? Perhaps you could send out memos letting me know when these changes take place, Catherine, otherwise it's all rather ambiguous."

I see the hurt flash across my sister's eyes, and I hesitantly step closer to them.

"Cath, she's really drunk…" I state, trying to soften the harshness of Sara's words.

I think we both know this isn't like Sara; the words she just used would likely never make it out of her mouth if she were sober.

Catherine looks back into Sara's eyes, shaking her head sadly.

"I noticed."

Finally, her eyes turn back to me. "And no offence, Nancy, but so are you. I suggest you leave yourself out of this and go sleep it off."

Looking between the two, Catherine who is icily glaring at me and Sara who is burning holes in the carpet with her fiery gaze, I decide that it is probably best that I give them their privacy to hash things out.

Nodding, I turn and head towards the guest room without another word, feeling Catherine's eyes watching me the entire time.

* * *

CATHERINE POV

Once I see my sister's form completely disappear from view, I turn back to Sara.

I don't immediately say anything, and neither does she.

When I can no longer take the silence, I gesture to her face.

"Will you at least let me clean that for you?"

Sara's eyes at last leave the floor to meet mine. "Will you finally start telling me what's been going on?"

It's not really a hard decision anymore, if I'm honest with myself. I am sick of keeping this all inside and now is a good a time as any to have this discussion.

Also, I don't think I can stand another minute of another day avoiding my lover's touch. The world suddenly becomes a much scarier place when you don't have Sara Sidle's strong arms to hold you close.

Call me selfish, but I want Sara back in my life. Simple as that.

Nodding, I lead the way to the kitchen, praying that she will follow me. Sure enough, I hear her lean her hip against the kitchen table as I wet a towel at the sink.

Turning around, I look her over, trying to find where the best place is to start. The majority of the far right side of her face is covered in dried blood, and the blood proceeds down her neck and onto her t-shirt.

Wrapping the towel around my hand with a sigh, I decide to start at the top and work my way down.

I keep my eye on Sara's expression for any signs of distress as I begin dabbing at the gash in her eyebrow. Of course, her expression never changes from neutral indifference. I would be willing to wager that I could jam my fingernail into one of her cuts and the only reaction I would get out of her would be a brow raised in curiosity.

Moving downward, I grimace as I clean around the deep cut in the skin near her temple.

Looking closer, I become concerned when I see light reflecting off what appears to be small slivers of glass.

"Sara, I think you need to get this looked at, there's glass in this cut."

Her expression doesn't change, and I am confused when she replies with, "What did I do?"

"Huh?"

"What did I do to make you so pissed off at me this past week?"

I scoff, "Sara, did you hear what I said? You have pieces of glass in your face."

Her dark eyes shift from where she had been looking at the wall to look directly at me. "I heard you."

I can see in her expression that she really could care less about the glass.

I shake my head, learning from past experience that attempting to convince Sara to get help for anything is like trying to lift a car with your teeth.

With a resigned sigh, I carefully try to extract any glass I see with my fingers.

"You heard me as well," she states, her voice pulling me from my thoughts.

Hoping I got all the debris out of her cut, I resume wiping away the blood. "I saw your wrists."

Her head quirks to the side, and I have to pull the towel away to avoid hitting her in the eye with it.

"They had bruises on them from when I held your arms down that day in the lab."

I don't need to elaborate on what day I am referring to, I'm sure its memory is etched in a prominent place in both of our psyches.

Her head is still quirked, and now her eyebrows join in. "So? I thought we already discussed what happened that day. I forgave you, Catherine."

Shaking my head, I begin wiping off more blood, needing something to occupy my hands while I essentially lay myself bare. "I was still trying to forgive _myself_, Sara. And when I saw those marks, I knew it was a lost cause. I hurt you once before, and I promised to never lay my hands on you again. Here we are a year later, and I not only laid my hands on you, but I did it with enough force to leave marks on your skin."

She narrows her eyes, "Catherine, you weren't thinking straight. You can't let that one mistake convince you that you are some sort of monster."

She pauses for a moment, and then her tone grows softer. "I thought that you had moved on from all of this – from the night in my apartment a year ago and from the thing at the lab. I'm sorry I didn't notice what was going on."

Shaking my head, I start working on the blood coating her neck. "I honestly don't know how to get past either of those horrible events anymore. I don't think I can."

Sara is silent for a moment, and then she takes a breath. "That's why you hate storms."

Surprised, I stop my movements and look into her eyes.

"They remind you of that night in my apartment. It was storming that night."

Sara is half drunk off her ass, and yet she is still more intuitive that any other person I have ever met. I am eternally grateful to have fallen in love with someone so introspective. If nothing else, it saves me a lot of time and energy not having to explain myself all the time. Not to mention the warm feeling that you get when someone knows you so intimately that you don't even have to use words to gain their understanding.

Suddenly, Sara reaches out and pulls the towel from my hand.

Tossing it on the counter, she looks at me with determination. "Come with me."

She doesn't wait for a response as she walks towards our room. I shake myself from my thoughts as I all but jog to catch up to her.

Entering our bedroom, I hesitate inside the doorway as she reaches under the mattress on her side of the bed.

Confused, I watch as she pulls out what appears to be an old notebook.

Stepping up to me, she holds out the book and I slowly take it into my hands. Now that I am closer, I can see that it is a journal.

Before I have time to give it much thought, her gentle voice brings me back to her.

"Turn it to January 17th."

"That's the day…" I trial off, unable to say aloud that that is the day I attacked her in her apartment.

"Yes."

Taking a breath, I open the journal. The pages are filled with her unique handwriting, each entry carefully dated. As to avoid reading any passages not intended for me to see, I quickly find January 17th.

Looking up, I see her eyes watching me intently.

"Read it, Catherine."

Taking another deep breath, I bring my eyes back down to the page and begin to read.

_January 17__th_

_Today is the first day of my life. I don't know what I was doing before this, but it sure as hell wasn't living. Or, at least, it wasn't living freely._

_I have always felt like a wild bird, a wild bird trapped in a cage. The cage being the abuses of my past, the Sidle name that I wish to God I didn't have to carry. _

_I was afraid of myself, of what I was capable of doing to those that I love. To the one person in this world that I truly could not live without. I was selfish, a coward. I was keeping us both from happiness just so I could gratify my inner fears._

_Today, the love of my life made the ultimate sacrifice for me. She put her own reservations aside and did the one thing she knew it would take to convince me to give her a chance. To give our love a chance. I know I would never have been strong enough to do what she did today if the roles were reversed. It's something that I am ashamed to admit, and I know it will take me a long time to get past the guilt of acknowledging it. She is someone that I would literally die for, but I still don't think I could do for her what she did for me today. Death would be a simple sacrifice in comparison. Honestly, I don't know how I can ever repay her._

_My cage has been abandoned now; its iron bars swing empty._

_Because, today, I was handed the key. _

_Today, Catherine Willows gave me back my wings._

_~SCS_

I close the journal slowly, tears making their way down my cheeks.

Sara steps close, running her hand gently down my sides.

"I owe you my life, Catherine."

I am unable to reply, my voice stuck somewhere in my throat.

Stepping closer, Sara pulls me into her arms. Breathing in her scent and reveling in the cherished feel of her embrace, I succumb to deep and wrenching sobs.

She doesn't say a word, simply holding me close against her chest as I weep.

Finally gathering myself together when I feel there is nothing left in me to cry out, I pull slightly away. Still holding onto my shoulders, Sara looks me deep in the eyes. The power of the emotion there is enough to take my breath away.

"You handed me my life back, and you gave our relationship the chance it needed to grow into what it is now. Please don't waste another moment of our life together regretting anything about what it took to get us here."

Nodding my head, I feel as though I can finally breathe again. I know that Sara has been adamant all along that there was nothing for me to be sorry for, but I always wondered if deep down somewhere she resented, or even feared, me.

Seeing her own words from that day was just what I needed to convince me that those fears were only figments of my imagination with no foundation in reality.

"And about what happened in the lab, Catherine. If I thought for a moment you would ever hurt me intentionally, I would have been long gone. I didn't put up with the shit I did growing up only to have it repeated in my adult life. You need to trust that when it comes to abuse, I know with striking accuracy what is intentional and malevolent and what isn't . And again, I will plead with you not to let it stand in our way. I have too many plans for our future, and our time together is precious. You never know when our stay on this earth will be up."

Looking at her, I see the devotion in her eyes, the honesty of her words clearly reflected in their depths.

Leaning forward, I press my lips softly to hers. Then, pulling away, I place my hand gently against her cheek. "Thank you."

Those two words do not come close to doing justice to my feelings, but I honestly don't know what else to say.

Watching as Sara nods and looks at me with a soft smile, I know that there is nothing more that I _need_ to say.

I honestly am the luckiest person alive to have Sara as my soulmate.

"Come on," I say, anxious to not only move on, but resume moving forward with our lives, "Let's finish getting you cleaned up and out of that shirt."

Quirking a brow, Sara pulls her shirt wordlessly over her head, tossing it absently over a chair in the corner.

I can't help but laugh, all the while trying not to blush as I take in her lithe body.

As Sara stands there in her jeans and a bra, blood still spattered down her neck and collar bone, leg and cheek having seen their better days, I know that this is perhaps not the best time to engage in certain…activities. However, I can't help but feel aroused as my eyes travel down her long and lean frame.

Before reason has a chance to catch up with me, I step into her personal space and lay my hands across her flat stomach. I can feel the warmth of her skin through my hands, and the desire coloring her eyes is doing nothing for my self control.

Lifting myself onto my toes, I send my tongue on an exploratory mission to the inside of her mouth. Hearing her moan, I gently push her back until her legs make contact with our bed. Reaching down, I unbuckle her belt – our mouths never separating.

Soon, her pants are off, followed by her undergarments. Leaning into her, our bodies fall together onto the bed. Holding me tightly, Sara moves both of our bodies further up the soft mattress.

Finally pulling my lips from hers, I slowly trail my fingers up the skin of her leg. As I reach higher and higher, I see her bite her lip in an effort to contain a whimper.

Deciding that tonight isn't the night for teasing, I bring my hand to her center and slip inside of her. As I begin to push deeper, I see her eyes close and her face contort into a beautiful expression of pleasure.

Sara is guarded with her emotions, and sometimes that guardedness carries over into the bedroom. Tonight, however, her expression is unbridled and I love nothing more than knowing I am bringing her the bliss that she deserves.

As her hands clench desperately at the bed sheets a short while later, I thrust inside of her one final time to send her into her climax. Watching her body and her face, I am confident I have never witnessed anything so beautiful as she travels towards ecstasy.

Holding her to me, I kiss her head softly as her body trembles beneath me. As she finally comes down, her hands find their way into my hair, and her mouth finds its way to my neck. She is still breathing a bit heavily, and I relish the feeling of her breath on my skin.

Slowly, Sara's body relaxes, and she gently lays her head onto my shoulder. Trailing lazy circles on her bare back with my fingertips, her breathing begins to lengthen to the point that I wonder if she has fallen asleep.

"Yuer clolhs," she mumbles, and I can't help but chuckle quietly.

"What's that, babe?" I ask in a whisper.

"Your clothes…they are still on your body," she mumbles again, this time with much better annunciation.

I smile, "Don't worry about it, hon, just close your eyes and go to sleep."

After the events of tonight, both emotional and physical, I'm sure that the brunette has to be exhausted.

Plus, if she is anything like me, all the tension between us this past week has been hell on her sleep cycle. I can feel my own eyes dragging shut now that I have the comforting feeling of Sara in my arms once again.

I don't know which of us falls asleep first, but the last thing I register is the gentle ticking of the clock, counting off the beats as I dance towards my dreams.

* * *

CATHERINE POV

Waking up slowly at the sound of my alarm, I squint my eyes against the harsh morning sun. Looking over, I see that the other side of the bed is empty. Well, it's empty except for a smear of blood across Sara's pillow.

Sitting up abruptly, I turn my head in time to see a showered and dressed Sara enter the room.

Seeing my expression, she chuckles and gestures to the pillow, "Sorry about that, I was just about to swap it out. It's kind of…disturbing...to look at."

"Yeah," I agree, "it's a bit like waking up in one of our crime scenes."

Sara snorts, stepping up to the bed and striping the pillowcase away.

Staring at it a moment, she tosses it into the trashcan. "It's a good thing it was already so damn hideous."

Reaching across, I smack her arm, "Sara! I picked those out…"

This only makes her laugh, a genuine smile playing across her face. "I know."

Shaking my head, I can't help but smile as well. It's nice to have this carefree feeling back in our dynamic.

From the look of that pillowcase, it's obvious that one of Sara's cuts reopened itself during the night, but I am happy to see that this morning things are looking like they are slowly starting to heal. I was worried about infection from the half-assed attempt to get the glass out last night, but it seems like so far she is in the clear.

I roll my eyes in exasperation, though, because it still looks like she went a couple rounds with an angry housecat.

"I made breakfast, so if you ever get your lazy ass out of bed we can perhaps enjoy it before having to head into work," she states with a playful tone, her eyes glinting in the morning sunlight.

I snort, slowly dragging myself out of the sheets and onto my feet. Letting out a large stretch, I catch Sara staring at the skin of my stomach revealed by my raised arms.

Lifting my brows at her, she blushes slightly and averts her eyes.

Deciding not to tease her about it, I quickly head into the bathroom to freshen up. Thankfully, I took a shower last night, and a quick brushing of my teeth and hair and some careful makeup application is enough for me to look presentable.

Joining Sara in the kitchen after noticing that Nancy has already left, my eyes widen in surprise.

"You should be hungover more often," I state, taking in the spread of delicious looking food.

She sends me a quizzical look, likely wondering why I would dare to suggest she is hungover and feeling anything less than 'fine'.

"If your state of drunkenness last night didn't give you away, then the missing garbage can in the bathroom did."

Sara groans, shaking her head at me. "Always the CSI," she states with an eye roll. "But your logic is flawed, my dear," she finishes with a coy look.

Narrowing my eyes, I cross my arms over my chest, "And how is that?"

She shrugs, "Well, the missing garbage can would hypothetically suggest puking had occurred and that the can was now drying in the sun after being rinsed out. That hypothetical puking would result in the expulsion of copious amounts of alcohol and stomach contents, thus cleansing the system of the instigators of a hangover. Therefore, the hypothetical person with the hypothetical puking would be, indeed, _not_ hungover."

I shake my head, covering my face in my hands. "Good Lord, if I never hear you say the word 'hypothetical' again it will be too soon."

Sara snorts, and I remove my hands away from my eyes to see her pull out a chair for me. Sitting down, we eat in companionable silence.

* * *

Two cinnamon rolls, three banana pancakes, and a strawberry smoothie later (and yes, that is what I ate entirely by myself – go point your judgmental eyeballs somewhere else), we are both ready and heading out the door. I smile as I realize we will be traveling together to work for the first time in a week.

Heading down the drive, I am sitting myself in the driver's seat when I see our neighbor crossing through the mesquite trees to our yard. She has always seemed like a rather sweet woman, and I am ashamed to say that we have never formally introduced ourselves to her.

Slowly making her way to our drive, her body hunched over with age, she calls out to Sara who is just about to reach the Tahoe.

"Dearie?"

Turning, Sara sees the woman and takes a step towards her. "Yes?"

"Oh, come here, dear, I'm much too old to come all that way."

Sara nods her head and quickly makes her way up the drive with her long legs to stand in front of her, "Of course, I'm sorry."

"Oh, no need for apologies, honey," the woman states warmly. "I just wanted to give these to you and your sister. I made a great deal too many and immediately thought of you," she says, holding a tin foil covered plate out to Sara.

Hesitantly, Sara takes the offered dish. "My sister?"

The lady nods emphatically, as if Sara has lost her mind. "Yes, your sister, the pretty blonde who lives with you, dearie."

Gesturing to where I am sitting in the car, the old woman's expression clearly states 'duh'.

Sara purses her lips, "Oh, right…"

The woman reaches over, patting Sara on the arm. "And if you want more, just stop over and ask. You look like you could use some meat on your bones. And hey," she says with a shrug, "I'm old and dying, what the hell better do I have to do but sit around and bake cookies?"

The woman lets out a jovial laugh, and I can't help but grin from where I am watching from the Tahoe.

Nodding, Sara sends her a tentative smile, "I'll take you up on that, I'm sure."

Gesturing to the plate with her eyes, she tells the woman, "Thank you."

"Oh you're welcome, sweetheart," she states with a wink. "Now, get your cute ass over to the car before your sister leaves without you."

Without another word, the woman pinches Sara on the cheek and begins her wobbly journey back home.

I feel like I am about to pee myself from the effort of trying not to laugh as I take in the traumatized expression on Sara's face as she stares after the woman in shock.

Finally, Sara shakes her head and makes her way to the SUV.

Her cheeks are burning and her eyes are planted on the ground.

Entering the car, Sara closes her door. "Shut up."

That's it, I can no longer hold it in and I burst out laughing, tears rolling down my cheeks.

Sara shakes her head at me, her eyes pleading, "Please, do not tell anyone about this. Ever."

I can only laugh harder, which only make Sara's cheeks go redder.

Eventually, I pull myself together enough to wipe my eyes and take deep breaths of air.

"I think you have an admirer," I sate, wiggling my eyebrows at her.

"And you are apparently fucking your sister," she retorts, a grin of her own finally spreading across her face.

"Yeah," I state with a smile, "we may want to clear that up someday."

Pulling out of the drive and beginning the journey to the lab, I keep replaying the image of Sara's exchange with our neighbor in my mind. Particularly, the part in which she tells Sara she has a cute ass and pinches her cheek.

Bursting out laughing for what has to be the fourth time during this drive, I watch as Sara rolls her eyes.

Holding up a half eaten ginger snap, Sara wags the cookie in emphasis of her words, "Laugh all you want, Miss Willows, these cookies are fucking amazing and they now all belong to me."

* * *

**AN: Thank you for reading. Nothing like cookie bearing neighbors to bring out the sun after an angst storm. Your thoughts/comments, as always, are welcomed.**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Hello all. Thank you SO MUCH to those who reviewed the last chapter - as always, you keep the inspiration for the story coming. As for the question about if there are more flashbacks, I believe this chapter will give you your answer ;o). **

**Hope all is well with everyone. Sorry this chapter is a bit shorter than most the others.**

**Enjoy. **

* * *

CATHERINE POV

Our jovial morning of ginger snaps, which Sara did end up sharing despite her threat to the contrary, contrasted sharply with the shift we had today. Half an hour into our workday, we got called in to another Vergenson scene. This time, a young couple was killed in a middle class neighborhood on the east side of Vegas. The scene was similar to the others, body parts swapped around like a macabre brand of confetti.

At least there were no kids this time. I guess I have to be thankful for small blessings. The couple, however, were newlyweds. Pictures of their smiling faces as they excitedly entered this new chapter of their lives together were displayed proudly throughout the house.

One particular picture caught my attention as we were processing the scene. It was a photo of them standing atop what looked to be one of the skiing trails at Lake Tahoe. They were both smiling widely, the types of smiles that are genuine, reaching all the way to the eyes. The woman was smiling gleefully into the lens, her cheeks colored pink in the brisk mountain air. The man instead was looking at the woman, his future wife, his absolute adoration for her lighting up his kind eyes. The frame, a simple silver piece, had one word inscribed along the center.

'_Forever.'_

Perhaps it caught my eye because of the poignancy, the fact that their time together was cut drastically short of forever. Or, depending on your view of what happens after we die, just maybe they are somewhere else, souls reunited in death and peacefully fulfilling their forever together.

Perhaps, though, the picture caught my eye because Sara and I have the same exact frame propped up on the dresser in our bedroom. Ours holds a picture Nancy took of us two days after we moved into our new house. We had been sweating up a storm trying to get everything moved in, piling box upon box in the living room. Just when we had gotten everything inside, I turned to Sara. And promptly told her I hated the color of the walls.

Quirking a brow at me, Sara merely looked around the room in silence for a moment. Then, she returned her eyes to mine.

'What color would you prefer?' she asked me seriously.

Not expecting that response, I had to think about it for a moment. Then, I knew. 'Something deep, solid. Something permanent. I think I would like burgundy.'

Looking at me a moment more in silence, Sara then shrugged. 'I could live with burgundy.'

We must have been out of our damn minds, because right then, after hours upon hours of moving all the crap into our house, we hopped in our car and headed out to get some burgundy paint.

Spending most of the night coating the walls, we finally finished a couple hours before dawn. Looking around her with a childlike smile, Sara nodded her head at the finished product.

'Beautiful', she had said, before focusing her gaze on me, 'Absolutely beautiful.'

I'm sure I was blushing deeper than the burgundy shade we just covered our walls in as Sara pulled me close to her. Placing a gentle kiss on my lips, she ran her fingers gently through my hair.

Pulling away, Sara turned back to the wall with a new smile on her face. This one much more mischievous.

'You have paint in your hair,' she said. Her smile now turning to a Cheshire grin. Looking down at her paint splattered hands, I got a very good idea of where the paint in my hair came from.

Letting out a snort, I simply shook my head. 'It goes well with the two burgundy handprints you have on your ass.'

Looking at me with wide eyes, she craned her neck around to see that I indeed wasn't lying. Snorting, she shook her head. Then, growing serious, her eyes once again met mine.

'I love you,' she told me, her eyes alight, earnest.

Reaching out, I rubbed my fingers across her cheek, neither of us caring the least anymore about the paint following the trails of my fingers.

'I love you, too.' I told her simply.

Tired, exhausted, but oh so happy, we laid ourselves down right there in the middle of our freshly painted living room. Our arms protectively around one another, we didn't care that we had a brand new bed waiting for us in our brand new bedroom. No, that night we spent lying contentedly amidst our now shared belongings, the promise of our now shared life spread out gloriously before us.

I'm not sure when Nancy came over to find us that way, neither Sara nor I having heard a thing or ever known she was even there at all. But sure enough, a week later, Sara and I found a housewarming present left by her on our porch while we had been taking an afternoon nap on the porch swing. Inside were two bottles of wine, one red for me and one white for Sara, and a rectangular wrapped object. Opening it, I believe we both had tears in our eyes when we saw what it was. A picture of us, taken that night, holding each other close as we slept in the middle of our living room floor, burgundy paint smeared across both our bodies adding the perfect accents of color to the scene.

That's the picture that now rests in our frame. Our frame that also proclaims '_Forever'_.

I don't know what made us any better or any luckier than that couple today, that we get to continue living our forever here on earth while theirs was sent off somewhere else. I don't pretend to understand anything about fate, plans. I have no idea if 'everything happens for a reason' or if we are all just victims to circumstance. All I know is that Sara and I still have each other, and I will never allow myself to take a moment of our life together for granted.

After putting in overtime hours yet again at the lab, we arrived home about forty-five minutes ago. Sara is currently reading over the case file from today on the porch, her brows furrowed in concentration.

We are sitting on the swing, and her sock-clad feet are resting softly in my lap. Sara puts out her current cigarette and is about to light another when I squeeze her leg.

"You think we should call it quits for the night? It's late, and I can barely keep my eyes open."

Looking at me, Sara appears conflicted. "I was going to go over the messages from today's scene a bit more, finish comparing them to all the others from the other scenes. See if I can figure out what in the world all these numbers he keeps scrawling everywhere mean."

Sending her a smile to let her know it's alright, I stay put. I know these messages have been driving Sara crazy. I always find her staring at them when we have a moment of down time in our other cases or late at night when she thinks I have already fallen asleep. It's like a puzzle, and Sara hates not being able to figure out a puzzle.

Returning her attention back to the case file, sans the fresh cigarette, I feel her eyes return to my face after a minute.

"You want to lay with me here? That way maybe you can get some rest?" Her voice is soft, and I love that she always puts me above all else.

I figure the question might as well be rhetorical, and I lay myself down so my head is resting on Sara's shoulder. She wraps her free arm around me, placing a soft kiss to my hair.

Even though I am exhausted, I find myself staring out into the vast sprinkling of stars visible out across the desert sky. Absently, I wonder about all the other worlds out there, curious as to whether theirs are also tainted with murder and tragedy.

Finding the Big Dipper, I follow its guiding image northward.

Taking in the twinkling cosmos in the northern sky, I can't help but wonder how many of those stars have already burned out – their light only being seen because of the centuries it takes for it to travel here.

I hope that when it's my time to leave this planet the same thing happens to me. That my image still remains long after I am gone through the people that I loved and the lives that I touched.

* * *

"Oh my God," Sara's startled voice suddenly shakes me from my reflections.

Sitting up, I turn to face her with piqued interest.

"Oh my God," she repeats, getting to her feet and staring at the file with wide eyes.

"Sara?" I question, getting to my feet as well.

She closes the file, and turns her frantic gaze to mine, "I need a piano."

I am so caught off guard by her seemingly random response that I almost laugh, but the serious look in her eyes causes my heart rate to accelerate instead.

"What do you mean?"

Looking around, Sara grabs her keys from the porch railing. "A piano, where is the closest piano to our house?"

Scrunching my face together in thought, I run through all of the places I have seen a piano and begin to calculate distances. "The old church on Elm."

Looking up at me, Sara nods emphatically, "That's perfect."

All but leaping from the porch, Sara is halfway to the car by the time I catch up. Jumping into the driver's seat, she has pulled out onto the road before I have a chance to buckle my seatbelt.

Judging by her current rate of speed, I have a feeling I am going to need it.

"Sorry," she mumbles as the tires squeal along a particularly sharp turn.

Her speed, however, does not falter.

Swinging into the lot, Sara jogs from the Tahoe to the front door of the old stone building.

Trying the door, she breathes a sigh of relief as it swings open.

The inside of the church is dark, but there is enough light streaming through the stained glass to make out the piano near the altar. I feel slightly guilty when I realize the only times I have stepped foot in this building is when people have died and I came here to attend their funeral.

Stepping up to the instrument, Sara pulls out the bench, its legs screeching against the stone floor and echoing along the walls.

"Sit down," she ushers me, taking a seat herself.

Laying out the images of the coded messages chronologically from the oldest scene to today's, she places her hands across the keys. Slowly, she begins to play, and the melody is absolutely haunting.

The notes resemble a dirge, and I subconsciously shift closer to Sara.

She works her way through all of the pictures, the song coming to an unnatural end at the completion of the last photo.

Removing her slender fingers from the ivory keys, she closes her eyes.

"I know what these mean," she says in a whisper.

Letting out a breath, she gathers the pictures back into a pile.

Turning to me, her eyes flash in the darkness. "Those long rows of seemingly random numbers written at the scenes? They're code for notes to a song. It's a shorthand way of playing the piano; instead of writing down the notes, you write numbers that correspond to the appropriate keys. Middle C is 1, D is 2, E is 3, so on and so forth. When a number has an exponent, it means that that note is of the octave of the exponent. So 3 with an exponent of 2 means that it is an E note in the second octave. Negative exponents denote notes that are located at that number of octaves below middle C. The rows of numbers alternate between notes to be played with the left hand and those with the right hand."

Staring at her, I marvel at her ability to have figured this out. I don't think I ever would have made the connection.

"So why did he write a song, what's the point?"

She shakes her head adamantly, "He didn't write it, this song was written a long time ago."

I am beginning to feel goose bumps rising on my skin. There's nothing like having a conversation about cryptic messages written in blood by a serial killer in a vacant church in the middle of the night.

"It was written by Eden Marlokh," she states, her eyes boring into mine.

"Eden Marlokh, the guy people suspect was the ghost writer for some of Beethoven's most famous works?"

Nodding, she smiles, "Exactly."

Taking a breath, she gestures excitedly with her hands, "Supposedly, Marlokh wrote one song in particular that never got performed by Beethoven. It was considered extremely controversial at the time, and some claimed that it never existed in the first place. Centuries later, a copy of it was discovered in the childhood home of one of his cousins. Unbeknownst to anyone before that time, the song had lyrics."

She has my absolutely undivided attention, my body leaning in closely with interest. "So what was it about?"

"A man. The man tries to live his life morally, contributing to society as best he can. One day, he wakes up and doesn't recognize his own hand. Looking in the mirror in horror, he finds that his right arm is now the arm of another man. Even more to his dismay, one of his eyes is also no longer his own. The song goes on, and slowly the man finds himself losing piece after piece of his body – all the parts being swapped out with those of strangers. It's essentially a moral about losing yourself in this world and becoming someone you no longer recognize. The man is frightened enough by the turn of events that he takes his own life, refusing to live in such an altered state and hoping instead to spend the rest of his existence in heaven with the Lord. However, when he gets to the gates, God doesn't recognize him as one of His own creations. So, instead of being counted among His children, God decides that he must be a construction of the devil and condemns him to hell. The man is obviously distraught, and without hope or purpose, he decides to start building an army of the damned to destroy the world and the God that rejected him."

My eyes are wide, and a chill runs up my spine. "So I am assuming the killer sees himself as this man, rejected from the world?"

Sara nods, her voice growing solemn, "Yes, and he is clearly already building his army."

* * *

**AN: Oh my. Thanks for reading. As always, your thoughts and comments are welcomed.**


	12. Chapter 12

**AN: Onto the next chapter. Hope everything is well with everyone. Thank you again VERY much to those who took the time to review the last chapter, you keep me going.**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

CATHERINE POV

The next day, we arrived at the lab early, quickly putting into action the new revelation on the case. We looked at websites, fan groups, music experts – anything or anyone with information about Eden Marlokh. One local online fan group caught my eye, and the webmaster is scheduled to come in for an interview tomorrow. We still don't have a solid suspect, but merely having a lead to chase down has given us a renewed sense of purpose.

Looking up and across the lab bench at Sara, I can't help but smile at her frenzied writing as she looks over the crime scene photos and jots down her observations.

It's easy to see the excitement in her eyes, even from here. I love watching Sara work when she is so enthralled and passionate.

Looking up, Sara catches my staring. She sends me a warm smile, her whole face coming alight, and then brings her gaze back down to her notes, her writing renewed.

Really, I don't know how a person can be so damn adorable. Especially when the person in question isn't even trying to be.

Shaking my head, which now dons a smile of its own, I return to the work splayed out in front of me.

* * *

We left work late for the umpteenth time, but tonight it had a distinctly different feeling to it. And that feeling, it would have to be productivity. For once, we left the lab knowing that we actually made some headway, and that our shift wasn't as worthless as a bathing suit in the Arctic Circle.

I am currently sitting on a lawn chair in the back yard of our house, watching as Sara and Mesa play with a soccer ball amongst the sand and sage bushes.

One of our favorite things about this house when we bought it was the spacious backyard it had, providing us with ample room to horse around with the dog and not feel like we are on top of our neighbors.

After we moved in, we built a fire pit, and unfortunately we haven't had a lot of time to use it. Tonight, however, we have a small fire crackling, the flames licking languidly at the kindling and taking the bite out of the cool Nevada evening.

In the emitted glow, I laugh as I see that Mesa has laid himself over the soccer ball, effectively keeping it away from Sara.

The brunette has her arms crossed over her chest, shaking her head.

"Really, Mesa? Are we really going to take ourselves down this road?" she asks him, her tone hinting that there may be trouble ahead if Mesa keeps this up.

Mesa, for his part, seems completely unaffected. If anything, he decides to rub it in Sara's face even further as he lays his head down, all but taking a nap on the soccer ball. His tail is wagging swiftly, however, giving his true intentions away.

And, those intentions have little to do with napping and a lot to do with annoying his owner.

Sara lets out an exaggerated sigh, shaking her head defeatedly as she states in an exasperated tone, "Fine, you win. Enjoy your nap."

Turning, Sara starts to walk slowly back towards me, sending me a wink as she catches my eyes on her.

Her expression is mischievous, and I know Mesa is in trouble.

Lifting his head, Mesa's ears are perked, watching Sara's retreating form with distress. Almost comically, his eyes shift between Sara and the soccer ball he is laying on. His brows seem to furrow, and he lets out a small whine as he stands, the soccer ball now between his legs.

His head is tilted to the side, and he is likely working through how his plan went so horribly wrong.

Sara waits another second or two, and then spins on her heel so quickly that Mesa has no chance to respond as Sara runs at him and pokes the ball out from under his legs and takes off. An exhaustive game of keep-away ensues, the ball changing possession more times than I can count.

Eventually, Sara picks up the ball, tousling the fur on Mesa's head as he pants heavily.

"I think this round goes to you, fur face, but you better prepare yourself for next time."

Mesa snorts, poking Sara with his nose before running a few times around her legs and heading inside to most likely get something to drink.

Stepping up to my chair, Sara stands exhaustedly as she shakes her head. "There is something seriously wrong with that dog. I swear he was gloating as he ran victory laps around me."

I chuckle, "You're just mad because you got beat at soccer by a dog."

She snorts, placing the ball on the ground and sitting on it, "He has four legs, it's an unfair advantage in this sport."

I laugh, reaching over to ruffle her hair.

"I'm sure you'll show him all the reasons you were a soccer division champion the next time around," I tell her playfully.

She looks up at me quizzically, "How did you…"

"I saw your medal when we were packing up your apartment last year for the move," I tell her honestly.

I would never have guessed that Sara had played for some time on the soccer team at Harvard, but once I found out, it fit rather perfectly.

She shakes her head, and I think there is even a bit of an eye roll in there as well. "Of course."

I poke her in the shoulder, "Hey, it's nothing to be embarrassed about – now I know why your legs are always so damn sexy and toned."

Sara really rolls her eyes this time, sending me a look. "You want to see sexy and toned? Look in a mirror."

I send her a look of my own. "I'd rather look at you."

Her face grows serious, and I'm sure she is responding to the unhindered desire expressed across my features.

She raises an eyebrow, and I can literally feel her trying to work out what exactly it is I am trying to tell her.

Deciding to make things clearer, I lean down and hold her head with both of my hands.

Leaning in further, I place my lips on hers. I run my tongue along her bottom lip, and after a second or two she grants me access to her mouth. Our tongues engage in an intimate dance, and I subconsciously lean closer and closer to her.

Suddenly, I feel myself falling forward, and Sara lets out a grunt as she falls backwards off the soccer ball and I land on top of her. I burst out laughing, and Sara lets out a chuckle while shaking her head.

She looks up at me, the firelight dancing across her features, and I can't help but run my fingers down the well defined angles of her cheek.

Suddenly, neither of us is laughing anymore.

I situate myself more comfortably across her hips, and she reaches up to run a hand through my hair.

"You are so beautiful," she breathes, lifting her head up so that she can claim my lips with hers. Her free hand is now working its way along my back, gently lifting my shirt as it goes.

The conflicting temperatures of her cool fingers along my skin and the warmth emitted from the flickering flames of the fire send shivers up and down my spine.

I am supporting most of my weight on my elbow while my other arm is currently lost in the dark tangles of her hair. Her mouth moves from mine to my neck, and I can't help but let out a moan as I feel her tongue work its way down my skin.

"Sara," I mumble, barely able to form the words in my jumbled mind, "you think we should take this inside?"

Sara doesn't stop moving her mouth along my skin, letting out a distracted "Hmmm" as she reaches a particularly sensitive area near my ear.

Deciding that if she doesn't care about our upcoming act of public indecency, then neither do I, I let my free hand roam lower and lower.

I feel her body stiffen as I reach the area between her legs.

What happened next was quite honestly the best hours of love making that I have ever had in my entire life. I can't tell you the number of times I came in pleasure, and I know Sara's own count was not far behind. I love the fact that despite that we have been together for over a year, we are constantly discovering new sensitive spots and exploring new rhythms with one another.

Our bodies are well acquainted, but each time they come crashing together there are new translations and interpretations of our particular language of love.

Sara is now holding me close as we lay in the warm blankets of our bed after moving inside. She is running her fingers gently through my hair, and as I snuggle deeper into her shoulder, I find myself wishing that we could lie like this forever.

* * *

CATHERINE POV

Chet Richards is perhaps the dorkiest man I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. Even Sara, who has her own humble stake in Dorksville, was rolling her eyes about halfway into our interview.

Whereas I would consider Sara a sexy dork who could blow you away with her intelligence and unbridled knowledge, this guy droned on and on about absolutely irrelevant things.

Namely, he provided us with a lengthy narrative of his life, and how he came to find his true calling as an internet webmaster.

Making our way out of the interrogation room, I find myself pinching the bridge of my nose in frustration. Turning, I find Sara doing exactly the same thing and I have to let out a low chuckle.

Seeing what I am laughing at, Sara smiles and shakes her head.

"Oh my…" she says, her expression telling me everything I need to know regarding her opinion about the interview.

"Oh my, indeed. I feel like I just wasted half of my life in that room."

We had interviewed Mr. Richards because of his internet fan site for all things Eden Marlokh. Hoping to find a suspicious member amongst the group, anyone who seemed to have an unhealthy obsession with Marlokh or his works - particularly the song we have found short-handed all over our crime scenes.

Instead of finding what we were looking for, we found a man severely out of touch with not only the entire planet, but also with the members of his own website. Basically, he let us know that he doesn't read any of the messages that are posted on his site or sent to him by his members because he feels that other people's opinions on 'Master Marlokh' are not only irrelevant, but are 'insulting in their inadequacies'.

I was beginning to suspect this creepo himself for the gruesome slaughters, but he had a solid alibi for at least two of the murders.

"I'll start going through his private messages, see if anyone stands out," Sara says, sending me a glance that clearly states she would rather be getting her fingernails removed.

It's hard to move from a major breakthrough in the case to such slow and tedious work that may not even pay off. I think we have finally both started feeling like we were making some progress, and it's hard to feel the momentum start to wane.

"Okay," I state, giving her shoulder a supportive squeeze. "I'm going to go over the postings on his page, then."

Sara nods and is about to turn away when I call her back.

"Yeah?" she asks, her eyebrows raised.

"I think I'm going to head out at the end of shift today and try to grab dinner out with Nancy. I feel kind of bad for snapping at her the other night, and we haven't really gotten a chance to talk since it happened."

Sara nods, "I think that's a good idea. I'll probably stick around here for awhile and then head out with Mesa for a bit. Tell her I say hello?"

I smile, "Of course."

With that, Sara sends me a quick smile and a wave and leaves the room.

Sighing as I realize I have no excuse not to get back to work, I head to my office to enter the exciting world of internet blogging.

* * *

CATHERINE POV

Walking into the house, I set my keys on the table as I notice Sara getting up from the couch. Judging by her wayward hair, I have a pretty good idea that I just woke her up from a nap.

"Sorry I woke you," I state, sending her a pointed look when she opens her mouth to protest. "You hungry?"

She looks at the bags in my hand with cautious curiosity. "Depends…"

Setting them on the kitchen table, I remove the two cartons of takeout I got from dinner with my sister. Seeing the familiar logo of the local Chinese restaurant, Sara grins. "Yes, as a matter of fact I am starving."

I laugh, gesturing for her to dig in and help herself.

"The chow mien is leftover from my meal, and the fried rice is brought to you courtesy of my sister. She insisted that I bring you home something to eat."

Sara snorts, grabbing the chopsticks from the bag and digging into the fried rice. "Weird, that doesn't sound like your sister at all," she states sarcastically.

When she finally pauses from stuffing her face long enough to breathe, let alone talk, she looks up at me.

"How is Nancy doing, by the way?" she asks before taking in another mouthful of rice.

"Well, good, except for the fact that she thinks Chris is cheating on her," I state bluntly.

Instantly, Sara starts coughing as she all but chokes on her food.

Rushing to the sink, I grab her a glass of water which she eagerly accepts. A few swallows later, she is taking deep breaths and the color in her face is beginning to return to normal.

"You Willows need to learn not to do shit like that when people are consuming stuff," she says with a pointed glare my way.

After a final sip of her water, she puts the glass down on the table and her arms fold themselves across her chest. "Why does she think Chris is cheating on her?"

I sigh, "Well, he has had a lot of 'business trips' recently, and he gets defensive when she asks him how they went and what he did during them. She says that he has gotten distant, and he has begun making up lame excuses when she asks if he wants to spend the night."

Clenching her jaw, Sara sends me a look. "I'll kill him, I swear."

Sitting down next to her at the table, I place my hand on her back. "I know, trust me. And so does Nancy. In fact, that's exactly the reason she asked me not to tell you."

I can see the hurt flash through her eyes, but she quickly covers it. "So then why did you tell me?"

"Because I don't keep things from the person that I love."

Yes, there are certain things that I might keep to myself if Nancy told me to, but when it is something as important as this, I feel that Sara has a right to know. Especially when I have complete confidence that she will be able to keep this to herself.

"You don't have to…" she starts, her hazel eyes finishing the rest of her statement for her.

I send her a warm smile, "I know, but I wanted to. I didn't want to be all alone with this, having it weigh on my mind without being able to tell you what's wrong."

She nods, "Okay."

Leaning back in her chair, Sara lets out a sigh. "So what is she going to do? Has she asked him about it?"

Shaking my head, I move my hands to my lap. "No. She says she doesn't want to create problems if she is wrong."

"I think there are already problems if she even suspects."

I nod, "I agree. Nancy is good at confronting people, but not when it comes to lovers. Especially ever since she walked in on her husband cheating on her about a year into their marriage. Now she feels like she is just being paranoid because of her previous experience with her ex-husband, and that people will resent her if she acts like she doesn't trust them."

Sara sighs, "Holy hell, that's a rough way to end a marriage." After a moment, she continues. "I don't know, Cath, I still think she needs to confront him about it."

"I know, and I told her the same thing. She said she would think about it."

"I guess that's all we can do for right now then, and hope that she isn't right," she says quietly.

I can tell that Sara is deeply bothered by the idea of Chris cheating on Nancy, and I am right there with her. I keep fighting the urge to grab my keys and go confront Chris myself.

"Yeah," I agree with a sigh.

Turning to face Sara, I gesture towards the still half-full takeout containers. "You haven't finished your dinner."

She looks at the food with a dark expression. "I'm suddenly not very hungry anymore." Then, looking up at me, she adds, "I'm sorry."

I touch her cheek gently, "You have nothing to be sorry about. I had the same problem when Nancy told me," I gesture to the chow mien, "thus the leftovers."

Sara sends me a sympathetic look, her eyes lingering on mine for a moment before getting up to place the food in the fridge.

"I'll put these in here for both of us to finish later."

I nod, wondering just how long it will take me to get my appetite back again.

* * *

**AN: Uh oh, trouble in paradise for Chris and Nancy? Thanks for reading. As always, thoughts and comments are welcomed and appreciated. **


	13. Chapter 13

**AN: Hope everyone is well. Thank you very very very much to those who reviewed the last chapter - you keep the inspiration flowing. **

**Enjoy.**

* * *

NANCY POV

"Sara, wake up."

No response.

"Sara…"

Nothing.

Her arms continue thrashing against the confines of the couch, and she lets out a tortured moan as her head jerks to the side.

"Sara…"

Nothing.

The tortured moans turn to tortured whimpers.

"Sara!"

Nothing.

Grabbing hold of her shoulder as a last resort and giving a hard shake, Sara bolts upright, her breathing coming so fast I am afraid she may hyperventilate.

I reach out to return my hand to her shoulder in an effort to calm her down and steady her shaking form, but instead it seems to have the opposite effect. The moment I make contact, she jerks away from me, nearly stumbling over the coffee table in an effort to get out of reach.

Holding out my hands in a position of surrender, I slowly get to my feet and turn to face where she is now standing across the living room, haloed by the early morning sun peaking through the windows.

"Shh, Sar, it's just me."

Her fists are clenched tightly, and her body is rigid. "Nancy…what…"

Her voice trails off, and she takes a deep breath in an attempt to get her breathing under control.

I stay put, not daring to take a single step towards her right now. "Sorry, I wanted to stop by before work to drop off the money I owed Catherine for dinner last night. When I came in I heard you on the couch. You, uh, you were having a nightmare. Sounded pretty intense and you weren't waking up on your own, so I thought I would lend a hand. Sorry if I overstepped or anything..."

Sighing and shaking her head, Sara runs a hand through her dark hair. "No, it's fine. Sorry if I scared you."

I feel my heart thundering in my chest, evidence of the fact that she more than scared me. "I'm just glad you are okay. I couldn't get you to wake up for awhile there…"

My voice trails off, and I don't think I have to finish my statement for her to get my gist.

Sara folds her arms across her chest, perhaps trying to make herself feel less vulnerable. "Yeah, sorry, sometimes I get dragged in kind of deep. Used to freak my roommate in college out," she says with a slight smile.

I return her smile with a rueful one of my own. "I can imagine."

Attempting for a change of subject, I gesture to the couch and the discarded blanket bunched in a ball at the far end, "Why were you sleeping on the couch, anyway?"

Sara averts her eyes, and I realize the question didn't offer the subject change or the release of tension I had been hoping for. Instead, I get the feeling that it only traded one awkward conversation point for another, perhaps even more awkward, conversation point.

Absently rubbing her temples, Sara promptly pulls her hand away when her fingers come into contact with the cuts from the bar that are still healing. "I took my run a bit earlier than normal, so I thought I would catch a quick nap before it was time to get up."

I hedge, "Yeah, but…". I let my voice trail off, since I am pretty sure she already knows that her response didn't answer my question about why she was occupying the couch instead of her bed.

She sighs, finally breaking our gridlocked positions by moving to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of orange juice. Gesturing to me with the carton, I shake my head no and she places it back in the fridge.

After a long drink, she looks back up at me. "I didn't want to wake Cath with my nightmares."

I feel my face scrunch in confusion, "Okay, but how could you know you were going to…".

Apparently today is the day for unfinished statements for me.

She doesn't respond, so I work through it on my own. "Unless you already had one nightmare tonight, perhaps inspiring the earlier than usual run, and you figured if you fell back to sleep you would have another. Or at least a continuation of the first."

Sara finishes her juice and quirks a dark brow at me as she swallows, "I see you've been reading big sister's CSI books again."

She doesn't really wait for a response, instead stepping closer to where I am standing and crossing her arms stiffly across her body.

Fixing her intense gaze on me, she tilts her head to the side. "What _I_ want to know, Nancy, is why you claimed you were here to pay Catherine back for dinner, when you were the one who paid last night."

She waits a pause as she takes in my open-mouthed expression.

Sending me a pointed look, she simply states, "Don't start inquisitions that you don't want to join."

Crap, crap, crap.

When Catherine gave her the fried rice last night Sara must have seen the receipt in the bag with my name and credit card information on it. The brunette's point is taken, loud and clear…interrogations are only fun for those sitting on one side of the interrogation table.

Uncrossing her arms, Sara places her empty glass in the sink. "I'll let Catherine know you are here so you guys can talk. You could have just told me that was the reason you were here to begin with, Nancy."

I take a deep breath, knowing I shouldn't have even entertained the thought that I could pull one over on Sara Sidle. Sometimes I wonder if she can actually read people's minds.

"I didn't want to hurt you or make you feel excluded," I state honestly.

Sara turns back around to face me, "She is your sister, Nancy. Family trumps everything." She shakes her head, "Regardless, even if she wasn't family, you can choose to tell whoever in your life whatever you want and not tell whoever whatever you don't want. True friends understand that."

I nod, and I know full well that I wasn't giving Sara enough credit. "I know."

She doesn't say anything else as she steps around me to enter her bedroom, softly closing the door behind her. I hear muffled voices, and about a minute later my sister comes out of the room pulling a robe tightly around her. Her face looks concerned.

"Nancy? Sara said you wanted to talk, is everything alright?"

I nod, but I know I am far from alright. She can see it, too.

Before I can say anything more, Sara comes out of the bedroom, this time clothed in jeans and a Harvard sweatshirt. Throwing a backpack over her shoulder and palming her keys, she looks up at us as she hastily steps into her shoes. "I'm going to shower at the lab so you guys can talk privately."

Opening the front door, she sends a "Take care, Nancy" over her shoulder as she pulls the door shut behind her.

* * *

I sigh, anxiously running my hands down my scrub pants. "Well, I pretty much fucked that up, didn't I?"

Catherine looks curiously between me and the spot that Sara was occupying only a moment ago.

"I told her I came here to repay you for dinner so I wouldn't hurt her feelings with the real reason, that I wanted to talk to you alone," I explain.

Catherine cringes and sends me a sympathetic smile. "And she knows that isn't true because she probably saw the receipt in the bag that shows you paid for dinner, not me."

I nod, grimacing. "Exactly."

My sister pats my arm lightly and begins putting on some coffee.

"Well," she says as she pulls two cups from the cupboard, "knowing Sara, she is probably more upset by the fact that you lied to her than anything else. She doesn't really care about all that 'she isn't including me' stuff. But lying," she states with a pitying look in my direction, "that's a huge deal for her."

I sigh as I place myself dejectedly in one of the kitchen chairs. "Yeah, I kind of picked up on that."

Pouring the coffee and handing me a cup, she sits across from me at the table. "I wouldn't worry about it too much. Sara has an amazing ability to forgive and move on. She probably won't even be mad the next time you talk with her."

I take a sip of my coffee, relishing the contrast between the bitterness of the coffee beans and the hint of sweet hazelnut creamer my sister uses.

"Yeah," I sigh, "but I think that almost makes it worse. I would rather her just yell at me for being an ass and then move on. Otherwise, I feel like she just holds it all inside and secretly resents me for it."

Catherine smiles knowingly, "Welcome to my world."

Then, her gaze grows serious, "But, I have also come to learn that Sara doesn't always feel what people assume she is feeling. So if she says she is over it, then she probably is."

Looking at her, I can tell that there is a story behind her words, but I respect her privacy and decline to ask. In the resulting silence, Catherine seems to shake herself out of the memory she was lost in, turning her gaze back to me.

"So, what happened, Nancy? Something with Chris, I am assuming?"

I cringe at the mere mention of his name. Carefully controlling my emotions so I don't accidentally shatter my sister's mug all over the kitchen, I reveal to her the reason I am here.

"I found a woman's name and number in his pants pocket when I was doing the laundry last night."

My sister stares at me in shock, so I take the opportunity to continue.

"Yeah, my reaction exactly. Her name is 'Juniper'. What the fuck kind of name is that, anyway?" In all honesty, it's actually a rather pretty name, but damnit, I'm pissed and therefore have decided to hate everything about this mystery woman. Including her fucking name.

My sister seems at a loss for words. "Uh, maybe he, hmm." Trying again, she says, "Maybe he is talking about the flower? Maybe it's not a person at all, he is just ordering some flowers?"

I snort, "Yeah, well, there was also the name of a restaurant written down and a time. So unless he likes to dine with floral arrangements, I'm pretty sure it is a person."

Catherine grimaces, sending me a looked filled with sympathy. "I'm so sorry, Nancy."

I shrug, attempting to portray a calm that I do not feel. "I don't know, part of me is relieved to just finally have the truth. Have some answers, you know?"

Reaching out and taking my free hand in hers, my sister gives it a supportive squeeze. "What are you going to do?"

I squeeze her hand in return. "Break it off. Tonight, when he comes over for dinner."

Nodding, my sister gets to her feet and pulls me up with her. Hugging me tightly, she runs her fingers through my hair. "I'm here for you every step of the way. Come over after, or at least call me to let me know how it goes? Please?"

Nodding, I lay my head gently on her shoulder, glad to have a big sister always looking out for me.

"I promise."

* * *

CATHERINE POV

Entering the lab, I toss my keys on my desk and decide to ignore the looming pile of paperwork, instead setting out in search of Sara to see what is on the agenda for the day. My thoughts are preoccupied with my sister, and I know that staring at forms and reports is going to do nothing to lighten my mood.

Checking in her lab first, I find Sara sitting with her back to me, her head propped up on her arm. Coming around the table, I see that her eyes are closed, a crime scene photo lying limply in her fingers. I don't know whether to be amused or concerned with the scene in front of me.

As I take a seat next to her, she must have finally registered my presence as her eyes snap open and she clears her throat.

"Hey, sorry," she says, as she straightens herself on her stool.

"You alright, babe?"

Nodding her head dismissively, she reorganizes the already orderly pictures in front of her.

"Yeah, I'm good, just thinking."

I send her a look that clearly states I know what it was she was doing, and it wasn't thinking.

Placing my hand gently across her back, I feel her muscles twitch beneath my touch. Reaching out with my other, I still the movements of her anxious fingers.

Finally, Sara lets out a breath and puts the photos down, placing her arms in her lap. "I'm sorry."

I shake my head at her, rubbing her back as I state gently, "Stop apologizing, hon. Just tell me what's going on."

She looks over at me, silently searching for something in my gaze. I don't know whether she finds what she is looking for, but she must have found something because she begins talking.

"Chris called me this morning when I got into work," she says, her tentative gaze now directed at the table.

I gently reach out to turn her face back to mine. "And?"

She sighs, "And he is going to ask Nancy to marry him."

I swear my eyes must be close to falling straight out of their sockets. "He WHAT?"

Sara literally flinches at my explosion, and I instantly attempt to calm myself down.

"Sorry, I just…he what?" I repeat, this time at a more manageable volume.

Sara only looks at me, knowing I heard her loud and clear the first time.

Shaking my head, I stand and begin to pace anxiously. "I just got done consoling Nancy because she found the name a number of another woman in his pocket. She is going to break up with him tonight!"

Sara turns on her stool to face me, "I don't know, Cath. All he said was that he has been running around like crazy these past few weeks to get everything ready for the proposal. He apparently talked to a friend of his mother's in Reno, some woman with a weird name, who specializes in rare stones to get an engagement ring custom made. He met her at a restaurant the other day so she could deliver the finished ring to him. Now that he has the ring, he's ready to pop the question."

I stare at her in shock, my stomach starting to sink into my knees. "A woman with a weird name?"

Sara nods in confusion, wondering why, out of everything she just told me, I am focusing on the ring-making woman's name. "Yeah, some flower. Jasmine? Juniper?" She narrows her eyes at me, "Why?"

I drop my face into my hands. "Shit. Shit. Shit."

Getting to her feet, Sara stands with her hip against the table. "What is going on, Catherine?"

After explaining to Sara how Nancy found Juniper's name in the laundry and the conclusions we both drew, she begins to see my predicament.

"And all his running around to get the proposal together was probably all those shady 'business trips' he was telling Nancy that he was going on," I finish, the last of the pieces falling into place.

Sara nods in agreement, not saying anything more. Her expression is oddly dark.

"Why did he call you, anyway?" I ask, realizing that she never mentioned the reason for his call.

She looks away from me, almost guiltily, and I question what is going on with her right now. Her emotions seem all…off.

"He asked if I would be willing to get her out of the house this evening so he could set everything up. He didn't want to ask you because he 'knows how sisters are' and 'the surprise would be ruined in an instant' by just you two looking at each other."

I roll my eyes, "Oh yeah, that ESP thing us sisters come equipped with."

I feel my face beginning to spread into a smile, now that the truth of the whole situation is beginning to take shape. Instead of cheating, Chris was only trying to plan his proposal.

"So what are you going to do to get her out of the house?" I can't help but imagine the shock my sister is going to have tonight, thinking her relationship is about to end when it really is just beginning. I honestly couldn't be happier for the two of them.

Sara clenches her jaw and turns away, bringing my attention back to the question I just asked her.

"Nothing. I told him no."

I feel my eyes about to pop out of my head for the second time in the last five minutes. "Excuse me?"

Sara holds her ground, despite the tone I just used with her. Trying to temper myself yet again, I take a breath as I wait for her response.

"Look, Catherine, when he asked me I was still of the mindset that he was likely cheating on her. It was a bit hard for me to do a 180 that quickly and agree to help him." Her gaze lifts to mine and I find her expression hard to read. "Don't worry, I didn't tell him anything about all that. I just told him I had a suspect coming in for an interrogation and I wasn't sure how long it was going to take. I suggested that he let one of her patients in on the secret and have them request Nancy sit with them awhile at the hospital before she goes home for the evening. I know Nancy will say yes, and I bet her patients would be ecstatic to be able to take part in the event and do something like this for her."

I let out a breath, it really is a good plan – and perhaps much more believable to Nancy then having Sara request to spend time with her so soon after their slight confrontation this morning.

Nodding my head, I send Sara an apologetic smile, "You're right, and that sounds like the perfect idea. She won't suspect a thing this way."

Sara sends me a quick smile of her own, but her eyes are troubled. I find myself ignoring her reaction, ignoring her tense posture and her unsuccessful attempts at appearing normal. Sara has always had this strange hesitance when it comes to Chris. She was slow to warm to him when they first met, and things haven't gotten much warmer since then. She's not unpleasant with him, but she certainly is guarded and distant. Or, more guarded and distant than she normally is.

Quite frankly, I don't know what foundations her reservations are built on, and I will be honest in the fact that I don't have any desire to ask her. The bottom line is that I am not willing to let anything ruin my happiness for my sister and her upcoming engagement. Anything. It's been far too long since my sister was happy, and I can think of no one who deserves happiness more than her.

Sara takes a seat at the table and returns to looking through the photos, politely but unmistakably trying to create an end to this conversation. I grant Sara her silent wish and leave her in peace.

Walking back to my office, I find myself with a smile growing across my face. And, what do you know, that same smile remains even long after I finish that entire damn pile of paperwork.

* * *

**AN: Thanks for reading. As always, thoughts are welcomed and appreciated.**


	14. Chapter 14

**AN: Onto the next chapter! Hope everyone is well...thanks again to those who took the time to review the last chapter, this one's for you.**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

CATHERINE POV

"I got it," I tell Sara, placing my hand across her chest to keep her from getting up.

Sara puts her book down and watches me silently as I get out of bed to answer the knock at the door. I know full well the brunette won't listen to me and will simply wait until I have my back turned to get out of bed and follow me. Answering knocks at the door this late into the night can be a risky proposition.

Sure enough, as I pull the door open, I feel Sara step up behind me. She keeps her distance, not encroaching, but close enough to put her mind at ease. And mine as well, if I'm honest with myself.

As soon as the door opens, I see Sara needn't have worried. Leaning against the doorframe looking at me with tears in her eyes is my sister.

"Nancy?" I question with concern.

She sends me a smile, and the action lights up her entire face, letting me know that her tears are happy ones. Without a word, Nancy steps forward and takes me in her arms. Hugging her back in surprise, I hold her tightly as she places her head against my shoulder.

"Thank you," she whispers to me warmly.

Before I can respond, I feel Nancy pick her head up.

"Hey, where do you think you're going?" she calls over my back.

Finally pulling away from one another, I turn to see that Nancy is addressing Sara who is standing uncertainly in the doorway of our bedroom, obviously interrupted just as she was about to disappear inside.

"Get your ass back out here," Nancy orders her with a smile.

I have a smile of my own as I watch Sara hesitate, her stubborn nature immediately wanting nothing more than to resist my sister's command. However, she finally shakes her head to herself and steps back into the room.

"That's better," Nancy states. "After all, I'm sure _both_ of you knew about and had something to do with _this._"

Holding up her hand, the muted lighting from the kitchen catches the angles of the ring on Nancy's finger, casting glimmering light in every direction. Instantly, I feel my own eyes watering at the sight as I step closer to my sister with a smile. I never thought I would see the day my sister would wear a ring on that finger again.

"Oh, Nancy, it's beautiful," I tell her.

And it's true. Taking her hand in mine, I observe the engagement ring up close. Diamonds are essentially laid atop diamonds, but instead of coming off as gaudy or pretentious, the old-fashioned setting makes it look classic, timeless. Elegant.

Stepping up alongside me, Sara sends Nancy a gentle smile. "Congratulations, Nancy."

Nancy smiles warmly back at Sara. "Thank you."

Pulling my sister deeper into the house so we can talk, I make her tell me every detail of Chris's proposal. Nancy smiles when she gets to the end.

"Poor guy was so upset when I confessed to him I was all ready to break things off between us. He felt so horrible for giving me the wrong impression with all his shady behavior these last couple weeks."

I smile, squeezing her hand in mine. "Well, it all worked out in the end. And I am so happy for you guys, this is all so exciting for the both of you."

Nancy nods, looking at me with eyes so eager and genuinely happy that I feel my own welling up again.

Breaking away with a chuckle at my state of disarray, I pull myself together. "Where is Chris, by the way?"

She glances at her watch with a slight blush. "Asleep. I couldn't sleep and wanted to tell you both about everything in person, so I thought I would stop by. I couldn't keep it all in anymore. I should probably head back, though, before he wakes up."

I laugh, "Yeah, probably not the greatest idea to have him wake up alone on your engagement night. He might think he spooked you into bolting."

Standing with a smile, Nancy pulls me up from the couch and draws me in for another hug.

"I love you," she tells me in a whisper.

"Love you, too."

Pulling away, Nancy turns to Sara who has now risen from her chair and made her way over.

Looking at each other for a minute, Sara finally breaks the moment and takes Nancy into her arms.

My sister holds the brunette tightly, her eyes starting to well up with tears again.

Pulling away, Sara reaches out and silently wipes away the drops that have escaped onto my sister's cheek.

Squeezing Nancy's arm in support, Sara meets my sister's eyes. "You deserve to be happy."

Sara takes one last glance at Nancy's ring and steps back.

Making our way to the door, Sara and I watch quietly as Nancy walks to her car and pulls away.

I can't help but smile, counting down the days in my head until she officially becomes Nancy Elise Dane.

* * *

As I line up the last wine bottle, I take a step back and observe my work. Satisfied that the bar is more than adequately stocked, I turn to check Sara's progress on hanging the ribbons. We rented a local coffee bar to throw an engagement party for Nancy, and the preparations are almost complete.

Sara's shirt is riding up as she stretches to fasten the last lavender ribbon to the window frame. Reaching out, I place my hands across the exposed skin, causing her breath to catch as she turns in my arms. Raising a brow, she leans down and places a sensual kiss along my neck, effectively turning the tables on me as her tongue moves slowly across my pulse point. I can't resist the moan that escapes my lips as her hands take hold of my hips. Just as I am about to lose all restraint and take her right in the middle of the shop, she pulls away with a teasing smile and a wink. Heading to the counter, Sara gathers the extra supplies and steps out to put them back in the Tahoe.

Although Sara is being affectionate and playful, I can tell there is something wrong. In fact, there has been something wrong since the day she told me Chris was planning to propose to Nancy, the same day I caught her falling asleep in the lab. I tried to broach the topic with her a couple days ago, but she insisted that everything was fine.

Since I suspected her troubles were related to Nancy's engagement, I didn't push the issue, satisfied to take her answer at face value and move on.

Now that it has become clear to me that she hasn't been sleeping judging by the dark circles under her eyes, I begin to wonder if I made a mistake in not insisting we discuss things. But, I still feel that perhaps, just this once, things are better left unsaid.

Or, maybe I am just trying to convince myself of that to avoid truths I do not want to hear.

* * *

Gentle folk music, complements of Sara, is playing across the speakers, wine and conversation flowing through the room like the scent of cinnamon and cider on an autumn day. I can't help but beam as I take in Nancy's joyful expression as she chats with some coworkers and former patients from the hospital, all of whom are thrilled to celebrate this night with her. Catching my eye, my sister sends me a gentle smile and mouths 'Thank you' from across the room. Nodding my head, I send her a smile and blow her a kiss in return.

Looking around the room, I see Sara talking with the same woman she has been talking to since the beginning of the party. I recognize her as Lauren, a former patient of Nancy's from years ago. The woman is laughing and showing Sara pictures of who I assume to be her children. Sara appears engaged, but there is something missing from her eyes. If you didn't know Sara well, you would never notice it, but after spending over a year of my life being intimate with her, it's almost glaring in its absence.

Suddenly, Sara places her hand gently on Lauren's arm, obviously trying to politely excuse herself. Lauren smiles and sends the brunette off with a warm hug before moving to join some of the other guests at the bar.

Sara, who looks like she is growing more uncomfortable by the minute, downs the rest of her wine in three quick swallows and heads towards the door.

Raising my brows in curiosity, I follow her out.

Stepping into the cool night air, it takes me a moment before I spot Sara standing in a doorway a couple shops down, lighting up a cigarette.

Seeing me approach, she doesn't say a word, silently turning to stare out towards the quiet street.

"You okay, Sara?" I ask her with care.

Watching the smoke as it curls out from her lips, I observe her as she sends me a smile that doesn't even come close to touching her eyes.

"Yeah, don't worry about me. You should go back inside, Cath."

"I _am_ worried about you," I state, the serious tone in my voice all but erasing the smile from her face.

Her eyes narrow, and her expression is a mixture of guilt and discomfort.

"You shouldn't be," she says.

Then gesturing towards the party, she adds, "At least not tonight, tonight is for celebrating with Nancy."

I step forward, placing a cautious hand on her arm. "I love you Sara, so I am always worried about you. But I am especially worried about you right now. Have you even looked at yourself lately?"

Snorting, Sara turns her head so she can blow the smoke from her cigarette away from me. "I know I have let my hair grow out a bit, but I'll get it cut soon, I promise."

I narrow my eyes in confusion, "I like it how it is."

Then, shaking my head to get myself back on track, I state, "But that's not what I meant and you know it."

Seeing her expression, I am suddenly aware that maybe she didn't know what I meant.

"You look like a ghost, Sara. You have circles under your eyes the size of Saturn, your limp is getting worse by the day, your gaze that is usually so vibrant is completely checked out half the time, I could go on." My tone grows softer, "It's obvious that something is bothering you, can you at least admit that much?"

She looks away, and I can see her mind working through what I just told her. It's a lot harder to deny and explain away physical things than emotional things to your concerned partner.

"I, uh, I just haven't been sleeping well I guess."

I send her a sympathetic smile, "I kind of figured that much, sweetheart." My face grows serious again, "But it's more than that."

She meets my eyes, and in that instant it's clear to me that it's _much_ more than that. Looking into their hazel depths, I can see so much emotion there, it's almost like the greens and browns are pleading to be relieved of their torment. I want nothing more than to be able to reach out and protect this beautiful woman that I love from whatever it is that is silently destroying her.

Then, she looks away and the moment is all but broken. "Maybe. But this isn't the place or the time."

I let out a sigh, knowing that she is right, but reluctant to leave my lover's side. When she turns back to me, I notice that she has reined her emotions back in, her eyes guarded and distant.

Reaching out, she places a gentle hand on my cheek, her voice almost a whisper, "We should go back inside."

Nodding, I watch as she pulls away and puts out her cigarette, sending me one last glace before she steps back into the coffee shop.

With a sigh, I follow her path.

As I enter, Nancy catches my eye from across the room. Gesturing to Sara with her head, her furrowed eyes are clearly asking me what is going on.

I send her what I hope is a reassuring smile, holding my fingers to my mouth to indicate that Sara just went outside to have a smoke. Nodding to let me know that she understands what I mean, she sends one last glance towards the brunette before returning to her conversation.

I know it's selfish, but as the party winds down, I can't help but count the minutes until I have my lover to myself in order to finally get some answers out of her.

* * *

Pulling into our drive, neither of us says a word, silently listening to the clicking of the engine as it cools itself down.

"I guess we should unload all the stuff from the trunk," Sara states, looking at me with about as much enthusiasm as I feel.

Finally bolstering some energy, I pat her on the leg, "Yup, come on." Nodding her head, she gets out of the car and joins me in the back where I am trying to lift a box about twice my size.

Coming up behind me, Sara covers my arms with hers, "Let me help you with that, little lady."

Smiling, I am more than happy to hand over the cumbersome thing to my tall companion. Sara lets out a grunt and mutters, "Holy hell…", but otherwise seems to carry the box up to the porch with little effort.

Grabbing the remaining items from the back, I ascend the porch and enter the house as Sara holds the door open for me. Grabbing the box and dumping it against the wall, she wipes her hands on her jeans, "I think we can leave that sucker for tomorrow to unpack, yeah?"

I send her a smile, "You read my mind."

She smiles at me in return, but I think we both register the awkwardness of the situation. I think the elephant in the room is about to kick us both in the ass if we don't address him soon.

Eventually, Sara lets out a sigh, "You want to take a walk?"

Nodding, I head towards the kitchen, "Yeah, let me make some coffee for us to take with us."

"Sure."

Minutes later, Sara and I are heading down the moonlit drive, coffees in hand. Taking a sip of hers, Sara makes a face and holds it out to me. Catching her gist, I swap mine out for the offered cup. "Sorry. Thank God you took the first sip and I didn't have to drink any of your battery acid."

Sara laughs, "Yeah, well, I hope you're still so merry when I slip into a diabetic coma from that crap you drink."

Reaching out, I playfully ruffle her hair – which is probably the only thing she hates more than sugary coffee.

After sending me a pathetic excuse for a scowl, she grows quiet.

Deciding to break the silence and get to the reason we are out here, I play with the rim of my coffee as I ask, "You ready to talk now? I get the feeling it has to do with Chris and Nancy? Just be open and honest, Sara, that's all I ask."

She snorts, "Yeah, well, being open and honest becomes a lot more daunting when your lover and your friend are related to one another."

I sigh. I have to admit that she is kind of in an awkward position here. "Well, I value open communication more than almost anything else in a relationship. So let's just give it a try and see what happens, alright?"

Sara nods, looking at me forlornly. "Alright, but don't say I didn't warn you."

I nod, gesturing that her point is taken and I still want to push forward.

Running a hand through her windblown hair, Sara lets out a breath in which she mutters something inaudible to herself.

Then, her voice gets serious as she states, "I'm bothered by Nancy's engagement."

Because I had suspected this, her revelation doesn't come as much of a shock. It still causes my insides to tense, however, to hear it said aloud. "Okay. What part of it?"

Sara's gaze is directed in front of her, "The Chris Dane part of it."

Shaking my head, I try to keep my tone neutral. "I thought you were starting to like him after you guys went climbing together?"

"I never disliked him, Catherine. I just don't trust him, there is a difference."

I don't say anything, so she takes the opportunity to continue. "I'm sorry, Catherine, I really am. I know how much this means to you and your sister, and I want nothing more than to be happy for the both of you. I just…you wanted me to be honest, so I am being honest. There is something about Chris that makes me uneasy. I don't trust him, and that makes it hard for me to pretend like I am excited to see Nancy vow herself to him for the rest of her life."

Sara's gaze is still straight ahead, but I can tell just by looking at her pained profile that this is hard for her.

"I don't know what I am supposed to say, Sar. I respect your opinion, I really do. You are one of the best judges of character that I have ever known." I take a breath, trying to think of the best way to say my next words. "But, you are also one of the most wary and distrusting people I have ever known. I think you would be suspicious of a person offering you a drink of water as you lay on your deathbed."

Sara looks at me, the expression in her eyes unreadable, but I'm sure I see hurt somewhere in the mix.

"I'm sorry Sara, but I'm just being honest as well. I trust Chris, and most importantly, so does Nancy."

Turning back to the road, I can see her jaw tense. "Okay."

"Okay? That's it?"

She shrugs, "She's your sister, Catherine. You asked for my opinion and I gave it to you. What matters is what you and Nancy think. So yeah, that's it."

I sigh, wishing that this situation was anything other than what it is. I hate disagreeing with Sara on anything, and fortunately it doesn't happen very often. This, however, is something that we have very different opinions on. And yes, in the end, I am going to stick with following my heart and the heart of the person that knows Chris best – my sister.

Deciding to accept the offered closure to the topic, I elect to move on to my other point of concern. "Is that why you haven't been sleeping? Because I think it's been going on longer than their current engagement."

I can tell Sara is still a bit wounded from the previous topic of conversation when she answers in a flat voice, "You know I normally don't sleep a lot, Catherine."

I shake my head, "Yeah, but you at least sleep a couple hours a night. I would wager that you have gotten only that, a couple hours, this entire week."

She doesn't respond, which is confirmation enough. "Look, Sara, I'm not trying to pry. I love you, sweetheart, and I am worried about you."

This seems to break down some of her walls; she still doesn't say anything, but I hear her let out a sigh.

Stopping in my tracks and gently reaching out to take hold of Sara's arm, I turn her to face me. Running my fingers gently across her cheekbone and down her jaw line, I watch as her eyes slowly close under my touch.

Waiting another moment, I am tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear when I hear her mutter, "I am having nightmares."

Stopping my motion, I maintain my grip on Sara's arm to keep her from drawing away from me both physically and emotionally after her admission. "Nightmares?"

I know that she gets nightmares often, so I wonder what it is about the current ones that have her so spooked and deprived of sleep.

"Yeah. About my mom."

I feel my eyes widen. Sara hasn't spoken about her mother since the morning we talked in her apartment and she told me briefly about her family.

"What are they about?"

She shrugs, her dark eyes now glancing everywhere but my face. "Something different every night."

I know Sara isn't purposely trying to be elusive, but I wish it was easier for her to open up about stuff like this.

"Any of them you want to talk about?"

Finally looking at me, she shakes her head. "Not really. If that's alright."

I sigh, rubbing her arm gently. "It's fine, Sara, you don't have to talk about anything you don't want to talk about. Is there anything I can do to help?"

She shakes her head, "No, this tends to happen every year around the anniversary of her death. It usually lasts a couple weeks, so things should be back to normal soon enough."

I cringe, "When was the anniversary of her death, Sara?"

"Eight days ago."

The day I caught her practically comatose in the lab. Instantly, I feel guilt surging through me at not questioning her behavior more that day. I was so caught up in my sister's engagement that it hardly even crossed my mind. I had assumed this whole time that her troubles only had to do with the engagement, never thinking for a moment that Sara may have had her own stuff going on as well.

"Shit. Sara, I'm sorry. I had no idea."

She looks genuinely confused, "How could you have known? It's not a big deal, Catherine."

"When did my father die, Sara?"

Her eyebrows grow even more furrowed in puzzlement. "November 3rd, 2007."

"And my grandparents?"

"Catherine…?"

"Just answer the question."

She shakes her head. "March 7th, 2001 and August 29th, 1994 on your dad's side, April 14th, 1989 and January 30th, 1992 on your mom's side."

Looking at her pointedly, I'm sure my guilt is being read loud and clear by the brunette. "I should have made it a point to learn when your mother died, Sara."

Sara shakes her head, her eyes cast in shadow from the streetlight. "My mother killed herself, Catherine. In a jail cell after murdering my father. So no, the date of that fucking disaster is not something you should have committed to memory."

Her jaw is clenched and her breathing has quickened its pace. Her tone, low and bitter, is a tone I have so rarely heard come from the gentle woman I love that my own breathing quickens in response.

"I'm sorry, Sara. I don't know what to say."

Shaking her head in an obvious attempt to clear her mind, she casts her heated gaze downward. "No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have spoken to you like that. I just get frustrated that she still has influence over me after all these years. Conscious or unconscious."

Raising her chin with my fingers, I hold her gaze in mine for a moment. "You have nothing to be sorry for, honey." She starts to protest, and I bring my lips to hers before she can utter a word. After kissing her softly for a moment, I pull away. "Nothing."

Finally nodding, Sara starts to turn back to the road. Taking hold of her arm and drawing her close to me once again, I lock our gazes. "I am here for you, whatever you need. However much or little that ends up being, okay?"

Closing her eyes, Sara lets out a breath.

"Okay."

Letting her go, we resume our walk, our hearts both heavier and lighter as a result of the conversations we had along the way.

* * *

**AN: Oh dear. As always, thoughts and comments are welcomed and appreciated.**


	15. Chapter 15

**AN: Hope everyone is well, here is the next chapter. Thank you to all those who reviewed the last chapter - honestly means so much to me.**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

CATHERINE POV

Our relative calm and brief respite from the Vergenson case was short lived when we returned to work the next day. Another family was murdered, and another gruesome scene was processed. I think we both knew that the killer would soon strike again, but the physical manifestation of our hunch still took our breath away. I will openly admit that while processing the scene I had to excuse myself multiple times. Sara followed me out on a couple occasions, simply holding me in her strong arms without saying a word. When she saw that I was ready to return, we would go back inside together.

By the fifth time, however, she kindly suggested that I take the evidence that we collected so far back to the lab and begin processing it. After sending her a grateful yet apologetic look, I took her up on the offer and now find myself poking through items on the layout table.

About an hour into my work, I hear footsteps approach from behind. Recognizing Sara's scent, my body instantly relaxes. Working a case like this one can make you a bit paranoid, jumping out of your skin like a fool when the toaster pops out your bread or a car alarm goes off somewhere nearby.

Wrapping her arms around my waist from behind, she rests her chin gently atop my head. "Hey."

I smile, letting go of the evidence to place my hands on top of hers where they are clasped around my middle. "Hey, yourself."

We don't say anything right away, allowing ourselves this moment of peace. Closing my eyes and breathing deeply, I am once again grateful and amazed at Sara's ability to calm and ground me simply by being in her embrace. I can literally feel her strength and composure seeping into me and breaking down my own feelings of unrest and disquiet.

"God, Sar, I could stay like this all day," I whisper, knowing she will hear me perfectly.

"Fine by me," she mumbles back.

With a reluctant sigh, I turn around in her arms. "Yeah, but probably not fine with the big bosses."

Sara snorts, her hands still resting loosely on my hips.

Leaning in, I place a soft kiss on her cheek before pulling fully out of her embrace. "Thank you, I needed that."

Sara shrugs, "Anytime."

Looking down at the table, she takes in the evidence with her perceptive gaze. "Find anything interesting?"

"Interesting, yes. Helpful to the case, no."

Nodding, Sara takes a breath and pulls her eyes away from the table. "I'm about to go see Doc Robbins about the bodies."

She doesn't offer for me to join her, and I find myself grateful for the omission. Normally, I would perhaps be frustrated by being shut out of a part of a case I am working with someone, but this particular part of this case is something I am more than fine with bowing out of. Sara knows that if she offered, I would feel obligated to accept. This way, I don't have to feel as guilty about leaving the autopsy to her. An autopsy that will undoubtedly be filled with yet one more morbid description of how more human lives came crashing to an end. An autopsy that will make me wish I picked any other career than this one.

Sara quietly leaves the room, and I continue processing the evidence before me.

Although Sara spared me the pain of having to see the lifeless victims laid out in the morgue, skipping the autopsy did nothing to spare me the pain of rifling through their bloody clothing or sorting endless swatches of carpet to try to assign each section of blood to the appropriate victim.

By the time I am gathering my things from my locker to head home, I am in such a funk that I don't know whether to bawl my eyes out pathetically or kick a hole in the nearest locker. Leaving the room before I succumb to either of those depressing temptations, I make my way towards the exit.

Seeing Sara sitting on the counter in the breakroom nursing a cream soda, I step inside. Feeling my presence, her gaze immediately lifts to meet mine. "Hey, Cath. You heading out?"

Leaning against the wall by the door I nod, "Yeah. You sure you don't want to come along to dinner?"

During shift, Nancy called and invited Sara and I to join her and Chris for dinner at their house after work. I eagerly accepted the offer, but when I mentioned it to Sara, she elected to stay here and work on the case some more. I'm not really sure how much of her motivation lied with catching the killer versus avoiding Chris and my sister, but I decided not to pry and simply honor her wishes regardless.

She nods, playing absently with the pull tab on her metal soda can. "Positive. Have a good time though, and tell Nancy and Chris I say hello."

Her expression is pleasant, and I appreciate the effort she is putting forth to be civil and supportive of the engagement situation despite her reservations about it. Knowing Sara, I expected nothing less, but it's still refreshing to be in a relationship with someone who doesn't know the meaning of 'petty' or 'resentful'.

Nodding in agreement, I turn to leave when I hear her call me back.

"Catherine, aren't you forgetting something?"

Narrowing my eyes in confusion, I shake my head. I swear I got all my things from my locker and closed up my office…

Sara quirks her head to the side, morphing her face into the best lost puppy impression I have ever seen. I let out a small grin as I get what she is trying to tell me.

Making my way to her slowly, I stop when I come to stand between her legs. "Only thing I forgot was this…" I say as I grab hold of her shirt, pulling her close and angling my head up so that my lips can meet with hers. Kissing her softly, I smile as I taste the sweet mix of vanilla and cinnamon from her soda.

Pulling away, I place a more chaste kiss on her forehead. "I love you."

Her grin lights up her eyes as she playfully tugs on a strand of my hair. "That's much better." She waits a pause, and then, as if it were an afterthought, she adds with a wink, "Oh, and I love you, too."

I pull away, sending a "Smartass" and a wave over my shoulder as I head out of the room.

Turning my key in the ignition and beginning my drive to my sister's, I still have a smile plastered to my face as I think about the beautiful and sensitive woman I have to look forward to seeing tonight when I get home.

* * *

CATHERINE POV

Pulling into our drive, I can't help but sigh in relief at being home. I had a great time at Nancy's, dinner was delicious and filled with conversation and laughter, but I am eagerly looking forward to crawling into bed and the protective arms of the love of my life.

Setting my keys on the end table as I step into the house, I see Sara lying on the couch with a well-worn book propped open across her chest. Mesa is curled at her feet, his nose buried under his tail in a canine attempt at staying warm.

While Mesa's even breathing clearly indicates he is deep in sleep, Sara mumbles out a "Welcome home, Catherine", letting me know she is more or less awake.

"Thanks. How was your evening?"

Finally pulling her eyes open with what appears to be some considerable effort, Sara sends me a smile. "It was good. Finished up at work a little while ago, got back and took Mesa for a run." Then, looking sheepishly at her furry companion, she adds, "It was a bit longer than our usual run, I think I broke him."

Sending poor Mesa a sympathetic glance, I lean against the back of the couch. "Yeah, I would have to agree. But I'm sure he'll be enthusiastically bringing you your shoes tomorrow morning for another go."

Sara smiles warmly down at Mesa, nodding her head in agreement. "How was dinner?"

"Really nice, actually," I respond.

She sends me a genuine smile, "Good, I'm glad."

"I think Nancy is growing suspicious that you may be avoiding her, though" I add honestly.

Sara narrows her eyes, "Well, I'm not."

I shrug, deciding to let Nancy and Sara figure things out themselves, if there is indeed something going on between them.

Seeing Sara's eyes slowly start to close, only to open again blearily moments later, I send her a sympathetic look. "Come on, it's late, let's head to bed."

She hesitates, and it's enough of a hesitation to pique my curiosity. Why is she fighting sleep so badly when she is obviously exhausted? Then, almost instantly, I remember our previous discussion about her nightmares.

"Sara…"

My tone causes her to look up at me, and she can tell from my expression that I know something is up.

After a moment of thought, she seems to come to a decision and her eyes return to mine.

"I don't want to hurt you if I have a nightmare," she states, clarifying the situation for me.

I am honored by her admission; it's moments like these when I feel like I am slowly making my way through some of Sara's walls. Or, at least like she has temporarily loaned me a ladder.

"You never hurt me any other night since you started having them, so I wouldn't worry about it, honey" I state logically, trying to put her concerns to rest. She doesn't look away, but the way her body tenses causes my eyes to narrow in suspicion.

Seeing my expression, she gets to her feet and heads past me towards the bedroom, "You're right. Let's go."

There is no way I am going to fall for that. I'm sure there have been many occasions where Sara has successfully pulled the wool over my eyes, but unfortunately for her, this is not one of them. Reaching out, I grab her arm and pull her back to me. "What's going on, Sara?"

I hate that despite my knowing there is something wrong here she can hide her emotions so well, because she is meeting my eyes squarely and yet I am getting absolutely nothing from her.

"Let's go to bed, Catherine," she states firmly.

Shaking my head, I figure it's not worth it to argue. Sara isn't going to open up unless she wants to. Deciding to get my answers another time, I let go of her so we can change for bed and she can at least get some rest.

As she crawls under the covers next to me a few moments later, I turn so that I can snuggle into her side. Putting her arm around me, her tank top lifts a bit along her hip. Reaching out with my hand, I lift it further so that the bottom part of her tattoo is exposed. Much like her, the tattoo is surrounded in mystery. She never once mentioned to me what it means, but then again, I never asked.

"Where did you get this?" I venture, deciding to test the waters with a simple question. If she tenses up or doesn't answer, then I figure I'll leave it alone.

"California," she says. "In a little town north of Tamales Bay, the city where I grew up."

Her answer is much more forthcoming than I expected, so I decide to put down the Barbies and kid gloves and go for it. "What does it mean?"

Our eyes meet, and I pray that she can see the pure love and devotion in my gaze.

"It's Latin, _Vel westward ventus plumbum ut northern brevis_. In English, it means '_Even westward winds lead to northern shores'_."

She takes a breath, playing absently with my hair as she speaks. "My grandmother used to always say it to me, and I thought she was just getting old, saying crazy things that didn't make sense. She would always say it to me after the particularly rough patches with my parents, so I thought it was just her way of dealing with the abuses going on in her family that she felt powerless to stop." She pauses, and I can feel her body stiffen. "But, when she passed away, I was there at her side. She reached over and took my hand, and it was the last thing she ever said to me. Something about her expression, the desperation in her eyes when she said it, I knew there was some meaning behind it that she was pleading with me to figure out. I struggled with it for years, frustrated with myself for not being smart enough to discern her message to me. Sometime later, when things at home took a turn for the worse, I took off for awhile. I went to the place where she was buried, the little town north of Tamales Bay. Walking along the ocean, the wind began to pick up and a storm was coming in from the west. Heading out onto the rocks, I sat there for what seemed like ages. Picking up a piece of driftwood, I tossed it into the water. Just as the first bolt of lightning struck, I watched as the wood drifted along the waves until it made its way back to the rocks. In that moment, I finally understood for the first time what she meant."

Taking another breath, her body starts to tremble beneath my fingers, but her voice is steady, strong.

"The wind was gusting in from the west, but the driftwood made its way to the shore, which at that part of the bay was northward. I understood that all these years, this was the analogy that she was trying to use to teach me. What she was trying to tell me was, even though things or people in your life try to push you in one direction, what matters is the direction of the current running beneath. The direction of what is under the surface, inside of you. She was trying to tell me that despite what my parents said or did, whichever direction they tried to force me in next, all that mattered was the direction my inner current ran, the direction I took myself. That, like the driftwood, it didn't matter what was going on outside of me, the way the winds blow, if I kept myself on course, I would get myself to where I wanted to be. She taught me that my situation didn't define or condemn me, that I was the master of my own fate, and destiny was what I made it."

She shakes her head, her eyes distant. "I sat there in that storm and I cried. I broke down and cried for the first time since my father first laid his hands on me. I must have cried for hours, screaming into the raging storm until I had nothing left in me. When the sun began to poke its way through the clouds after the torrents, I headed into town and went inside the first tattoo shop I saw. I felt so alive, so relieved, and I wanted to remember that moment, that feeling, for forever. I wanted my grandmother, and her message, to live always in me. I knew times would come when I would need to be reminded of it, so getting it tattooed on my body seemed like the logical solution." Her face breaks into a small smile at the memory. "I only had five bucks in my pocket, but I must have looked absolutely pathetic because the shop owner did it for free. Daniel Conlan. I'll never forget his name."

Blinking, she turns her eyes to mine. Letting out a rueful grin, she shakes her head, "That was probably a much longer explanation than you were looking for."

Shaking my own head, I attempt to subtly wipe the tears from my eyes as I place a gentle kiss into her dark hair. "You have the most beautiful soul of any person I have ever met, Sara Sidle."

She doesn't say anything, but the way she holds me tighter lets me know that she heard me loud and clear.

* * *

CATHERINE POV

Sighing, I glance at the clock. 4:11am. Something must have woken me up, but I have absolutely no clue what. Deciding that it doesn't matter anyway, I roll over to go back to sleep. Reaching my arm out, my eyes snap open when it connects with a cold mattress instead of a warm body. Raising my head, I can easily see in the moonlight that the bed is empty. Looking around, I discover so is the rest of the bedroom.

Quietly working my way free of the sheets and moving to the door, I step out into the rest of the house, looking around cautiously as I go. When I hear stirring on the couch, I know what I will find before I even look.

Sure enough, stretched out on the cushions is Sara, Mesa curled into a ball at her side. She has her eyes closed, but from the way her arm is propped up behind her head, I can tell that she isn't asleep. I am nervous that she will hear me, but as I look closer I can see that she has her headphones in her ears. I know that sometimes when Sara has trouble sleeping she puts on some relaxing nature tracks to try to lull her to sleep, which is apparently what she is trying for tonight. However, judging by her facial expression and constant fidgeting, I would deduce that it doesn't appear to be doing the trick this time.

Wrapping my arms around my pajama clad body, I realize that this is why Sara hasn't woken me with her nightmares this past week. Not because her fears of waking me were unfounded, but because she took it upon herself to solve the problem by sleeping on the couch all this time. Since I usually sleep straight through the night, there is no way I would notice her move out here after I have fallen asleep.

I want to go to her, hold her, help her relax enough to finally get some rest, but I know that she will only feel worse if she realizes that I have caught her. She'll feel obligated to stay in bed with me, then force herself to remain awake all night so that she doesn't have any nightmares. So, no, as painful as it is, I need to give her space right now. Allow her to handle this in the way she feels comfortable, hoping that the nightmares run their natural course and release the hold they currently have on her. And, I pray that they release my lover sooner rather than later. Sara is stoic and strong, but everyone has their limits.

With one final sigh, I turn on my heel and head back to the bedroom, closing the door silently behind me.

* * *

The beeping of the alarm incorporates itself into my dream so successfully that it takes me a minute or two to fight through the haze of slumber and realize that it is time to get up. Reaching out blindly, I smack at the alarm until it clatters to the floor. I'm sure that's not the way it was designed to be shut off, but hell, it's just as affective and a lot more gratifying.

Hearing a chuckling beside me, I turn my bleary eyes to meet the quirked brow of my lover. "And to think some of us are so boring that we just hit the 'Snooze' button."

Snorting, but finally becoming more awake, I shake my head at her. "Then it would never learn its lesson to not wake me in such annoying fashion the next time around."

Sara looks at me like I have grown twelve heads. "Uh huh."

Deciding there are much better things to spend my morning talking about than my alarm clock, I scoot closer to Sara and place a gentle kiss on her cheek. "Good morning."

Smiling, Sara puts down what she was reading and kisses me in return. "Morning."

Pulling back, I look at Sara closely.

I have to admit, the girl is amazing at always appearing strong and relaxed. Only because I caught her on the couch last night do I know to look for the subtle changes in her posture and expression that reveal her exhaustion. Anyone else would find her just as bright eyed and bushy tailed as any other day. And much to her credit, she almost is. I'll never understand how she can be going through so much and still have the energy to keep up appearances so that others don't worry or get suspicious.

"You okay?" she asks me in concern after a moment. I'm sure that it's not proper morning etiquette to stare down your bedmate.

Placing my hand gently across her chest, I smile. "Yeah, just thinking."

I wish I could tell her that I know about her sleepless nights on the couch, about her continued struggles with her nightmares, about the anguish going on inside of her. I wish I could convince her that it would be okay to let go, to break down, even if it's just this once. Tell her that I appreciate her always trying to protect me from her darkness, but that I find her darkness just as beautiful as her light.

But I don't, I can't.

Instead, I settle for this gentle touch, hoping somehow that my unconditional love and support gets transferred to her through this simple connection.

"You sure?" Her brows are knit together, and I can feel her heartbeat picking up speed under my fingers.

Leaning in, I place a kiss across her forehead. "Positive," I mutter into her hair as I pull away.

Respecting my answer, Sara nods her head despite the concern still swirling in her eyes. "I'll get something started for breakfast."

With one final squeeze of my hand, she removes her lean frame from the bed and exits the room.

* * *

Arriving at work, the first person I see after opening the door of the lab causes me to stop dead in my tracks. Sara, caught off guard, literally runs straight into me.

Mumbling an apology, she anxiously steps around in front of me to see what has me so spooked. When her eyes fall on what mine have already seen, she reaches back to pull me completely behind her.

"Can I help you?" Sara's voice is guarded, clearly sending a warning to the woman she is addressing. As if on cue, that woman stands.

Hesitantly, Mrs. Trenton approaches us, her hands in the air in an attempt to indicate that she means us no harm. "I'm sorry to bother you. I just…I was really hoping to talk to you, Miss Sidle."

I'm about to tell this woman to go to hell when Sara cuts me off. "Why?"

Mrs. Trenton takes a deep breath, tears beginning to well up in the corners of her bloodshot eyes. "I, uh, I haven't been able to sleep. I just kept thinking about what I did when I stormed in here the other day. That's not me, Miss Sidle, I would never raise my hand to anyone. But I did. And I'm so sorry…"

The woman looks like she is about to have an emotional breakdown right here in the lobby. Sara, the saint that she is, reaches out to place her hand on the woman's arm to direct her further into the lab and away from the curious eyes that are already plastered on us.

I follow them through the hall, placing my own hand on Sara's arm. "Sara…" I state with caution. I know she can tell from my tone everything that I am trying to say without actually saying it. My warning for her not to give this woman another chance, to allow her to hurt her yet again, rings loud and clear.

"There should be an open interview room that no one is using. It'll be private and no one will bother us in there." Sara is speaking to Mrs. Trenton, but her eyes are on me. I nod my head in understanding.

Peeling away from them, I take the shorter path to the interview observation rooms, thankful that Sara was able to think on her feet well enough to figure out a way for me to be able to keep an eye on things so that I don't literally go insane with worry.

Settling in behind the glass of the only open room, I watch as Sara and Mrs. Trenton take a seat a short moment later. Anxiously, Mrs. Trenton looks at the glass mirror and the video cameras positioned in the corners of the room.

"They're not on," Sara states, her voice almost void of emotion.

Nodding, the older woman lowers her head, clenching her anxious hands around the material of her pants.

"Miss Sidle-"

"Call me Sara."

"Sara. I, uh, I don't even know where to begin, to be honest. I don't think my apologies will come close to erasing what I did."

Sara narrows her eyes. "You weren't unjustified, Mrs. Trenton. I can't say that I wouldn't have done the same thing if I were in your position."

I tense from my position behind the glass, hating that Sara is so quick to forgive this woman.

Shaking her head, Mrs. Trenton finally meets the brunette's eyes. "No, there is no excuse for my behavior. Yes, I was upset, but it wasn't right to take it out on you like that. I think I was more frustrated with everything that was going on then I was with you personally, to be honest. You were just a very convenient target."

Narrowing her brows, Sara remains silent.

"I was frustrated with my husband, with his ability to lie to me for years. With my _inability_ to see him for the man he really was. I was frustrated with his choices that led my son to be without a father. With the police for not taking my concerns seriously after the incident. Everything."

Quirking her head, Sara looks closely at the woman in front of her. "What concerns?"

Mrs. Trenton shrugs. "I told the police that I didn't think my husband was acting alone. That I _knew_ he wasn't acting alone. They just smiled and nodded, never writing anything I told them down. I figured it was because they couldn't stand the thought that there was a dirty cop among them, and here I was suggesting that there was likely another. Either that or they were in on it as well, or at least knew of the person he was working with. You know, someone higher up, perhaps."

Sara's eyes shoot to mine, somehow able to find them with perfect accuracy despite the mirrored glass.

"How do you know he wasn't acting alone?" Sara's voice is so steady and calculated it is almost cold.

Mrs. Trenton pauses for a moment, assessing Sara's expression. "He once slipped up, made a comment about his 'partner'. I was confused at the time, because he didn't have a partner at work. He was always assigned to guard crime scenes, most of the time on his own or with whoever else was available. No regular partner or anything."

Clenching her jaw, Sara leans slightly forward. "Did you ever see his partner?"

Shaking her head, Mrs. Trenton looks almost apologetic as she states, "No, but I think he came to the house one night. It was weird, because my husband referred to him by the name of some animal. I can't remember what animal is was, but it struck me as an odd nickname. Wolf, maybe? Anyway, I was upstairs in bed, and they only spoke for a moment or two before leaving the house together."

Seeing Sara's expression, Mrs. Trenton lowers her gaze. "I'm sorry, I really don't remember anything else. It's more a feeling I always had then anything concrete."

Nodding, Sara's voice becomes a little bit softer. "It's okay. Thank you for sharing what you do know."

Rising to her feet, Sara glances down at the woman. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude, but I really have to get back to the lab. I appreciate your coming here."

Mrs. Trenton stands, looking awkwardly at Sara almost as if she wants to hug her. "I understand. I just wanted to apologize to you, Sara, I know it likely doesn't mean anything, but I needed to try."

Her expression finally losing a bit of its rigidity, Sara shakes her head. "Mrs. Trenton, I forgave you before you even made it out of the lab that day."

Tears make their way down Mrs. Trenton's face, and she nods her head. "Thank you."

It's clear that her thank you covers a lot more than meets the eye.

Reaching out, Sara squeezes the woman's arm. Covering Sara's hand with hers, Mrs. Trenton holds them in that position for a moment before finally releasing her grasp with a tearful smile.

Leaving to escort the older woman out of the lab, Sara returns a short minute later. Sitting next to me in the observation room without a word, she stares ahead of her at the glass that now separates us from an empty room.

"I'm sorry, Catherine." Sara's voice is tense, angry.

"Sara…" I start, trying to cut her off.

"No, I'm sorry. You shouldn't have heard that. It's bad enough that bastard tried to kill you, now you get a front row seat to hearing that he likely has a partner that's still out there."

I stand, turning my body to directly face Sara.

"So, what, if I wasn't here you weren't going to tell me? Just keep all this inside like you do everything else so that you can 'protect' me?"

My voice is harsh, the words catching Sara so off guard that she promptly gets to her feet.

"I would have told Brass, told everyone I had to tell to get you the protection that you need."

"But you wouldn't have told me."

Sara clenches her jaw, struggling with her answer. "No, I wouldn't have."

"Fuck you, Sara."

Releasing a breath, Sara's eyes narrow and she looks at me as if I just kicked her in the stomach.

"No, really. Fuck you. You don't always get to be the one protecting me all the time, Sara. I'm a grown ass woman and I have a right to know about anything and everything going on that has the slightest thing to do with me."

Clenching her jaw, Sara's eyes are smoldering.

"I am just trying to-"

"No, Sara! I don't care what you were trying to do! How would you feel if the situation were reversed?"

She is silent, and I know as well as she does that if the situation were reversed she would be just as angry, if not more.

"You want to help me, Sara? Then stop being my goddamn guardian and start being my friend. Start being open and honest with me, and stop burying everything so fucking deep inside that you're forced to fake your way through every day. I don't want a relationship with the ideal of you, I want a relationship with _all_ of you." My voice grows quiet, and I can't meet her eyes as I say the last part. "It's either that or a relationship with none of you."

Shaking her head, Sara's fists are clenched at her sides. "Where is all this coming from, Catherine? I thought things with us were fine…"

"It's coming from the deep place inside of _me_. But, unlike you, I'm actually human and so I have to let it out sometimes."

Sara's eyes close instantly under the pain of my words, and I feel regret wash through my body at the things I just said to the woman that I love. This conversation wasn't even supposed to be about any of this, this wasn't how I intended for things to go at all.

"Sara-"

"It's fine. You got your point across."

Shaking my head, I reach out to touch her, to grab her arm to force her to listen to my apology. She's too quick, though, and easily sidesteps me to make her way out of the room.

Releasing a deep breath, I place my head in my hands.

How did everything suddenly turn out so wrong?

* * *

Tossing my pen down dejectedly, I gather my papers up with a sigh. I can't focus. Hell, I can barely breathe thinking about the fight I had earlier with Sara. Wasn't I just this same morning marveling at how strong she is and her amazing ability to keep everything tucked away deep inside so as to not worry anyone? Then, less than an hour later, I am telling her that unless she completely changes her ways, we are over.

Talk about unstable.

I think it's easy to say that I did not handle the stress of finding out Trip Trenton had a partner in the most appropriate of manners. Mrs. Trenton isn't the only one who should be apologizing for turning Sara into an easy target for their out of control emotions.

Exiting the evidence room, I stall when I reach the hallway, not knowing where to begin looking for the elusive brunette.

Deciding to head right, I don't have to search long when Sara turns the corner and nearly walks straight into me.

"Good, Sara, I was just-"

"I'm sorry, Catherine," she says, cutting me off.

Shaking my head in confusion, I am about to ask for clarification when she continues.

"I'm sorry that I can't be the person that you want me to be. The person that you want to be in a relationship with. I've been trying so hard to change, to be more open with you. But honestly, it's been hell trying to readjust years of conditioned behavior. To try to alter such an integral part of who I am." She pauses to take a breath, shaking her head in frustration. "If my efforts so far are not enough for you, then I think we are wasting our time. Because I don't know how much more I can change, Catherine."

I am stunned literally speechless.

"You said you want a relationship with all of me or none of me. Well, all of me includes my silences, my introversion, my independent nature, my discomfort with accepting help, my desire to deal with things on my own, and my need to protect you at all cost. You can't ask me to stop looking out for you or just stand by and watch bad things come your way. I won't be a spectator when I think you may be in danger. I'm sorry, I really am, but that is definitely not something I am willing to change."

She bows her head, her dark features stark and tense. "I guess the decision is really yours as to whether you are willing to continue having a relationship with me. The _real_ me."

Her eyes flash up to mine, looking at me intensely, and then she is gone.

Staring ahead of me at the now empty hall, my heart thundering in my chest is the only thing I can comprehend.

* * *

"Catherine!" I hear my name being called as I am just about to step out of the lab into the night air and begin my drive home. Turning, I let the door swing closed behind me as I face Jim Brass.

"Hey, Jim. What can I do for you?"

Reaching me, he places his hand on my arm. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about what _I_ can do for _you_."

"And what would that be?" I ask curiously.

He sends me a warm smile, "Well, a certain brunette who cares very much for you told me about her conversation with Mrs. Trenton. The poor girl is so smitten with you, refused to leave my office until I had promised her to keep someone watching out for you until we figure out who this mysterious 'partner' is and get him off the streets."

Squeezing my arm, he gives me a wink. "That girl loves you more than life itself, you know that, right? Always good to have someone like Sara looking out for you is what I say."

Nodding my head absently, he turns to leave. "Have a good night, Catherine. Don't worry about a thing. Sidle told me what would happen to me if I let anyone near you – and let's just say the imagery alone is enough to keep me up at night." He sends me one final smile and a wave, "You're a lucky gal."

Releasing a breath, I mutter, "Yes, I am" even though Brass is already out of sight.

Heading home in a daze, I thank the heavens that I made it back in one piece as I pull into the drive. It's eerie to think that I honestly can't remember a single moment of the drive home.

Climbing the front steps of the porch, I notice a note folded into the handle of the front door. Reaching for it with curiosity, I pull it out and hold it close to make out the words in the dim lighting.

_Catherine – _

_Thought I would give you some space for awhile, let you think things over in privacy. _

_I'll be around to talk whenever you decide what you want to do about us._

_Love you (always),_

_-S_

Clutching the paper to my chest, I ignore the aching in my heart and enter the house. Closing the door behind me, I listen as the echo of the door meeting the frame travels through the house.

The very, very empty house.

* * *

**AN: Thank you for reading. Thoughts and comments are welcomed and appreciated.**


	16. Chapter 16

**AN: Greetings, all. Hope everyone is doing well. As always, thank you to those who reviewed the last chapter – you really have no idea how much you help inspire me to continue with this story. Your reviews literally brighten my day when I read them.**

**There was one question regarding the source of the quote/story for Sara's tattoo…and that source would uninterestingly enough be my head. Back when I first wrote that Sara had a tattoo I figured some text in Latin would be fitting for her character, but didn't really plan out in my head what it meant. Since that time, I have been thinking about that question and what I wanted the text to mean. I wanted it to be something with deep meaning for Sara, something that represented a source of strength or inspiration to her. And, as Sara was from California, I somehow wanted the idea of the ocean to fit into the meaning and help give the tattoo a foundation in her past. That way the tattoo would help reveal a bit more about Sara's character as her past has been intentionally left a bit vague throughout these stories. Put that all together and somehow my brain came up with the story behind the tattoo present in the last chapter. Sorry if you were looking for something more intriguing than that...:) **

**Take care everyone, and hope you enjoy the chapter.**

* * *

CATHERINE POV

The next couple days, I barely see Sara at all. The Vergenson case has kept us both busy, but has also kept us heading in different directions to cover all the necessary ground.

I'd like to say that I immediately called Sara after our first night apart, that I assured her that a relationship with any part of her was enough for me. I'd like to say that the brief glimpse of life without her was enough to send me running right back into her arms. However, that just wasn't the case.

Using the time alone to think, really think, about everything, I came to some realizations. I love Sara, I truly do. I love Sara more than I loved anyone in my life, and I know that she is the only one in this world for me. Most people would consider her the perfect lover – beautiful, kind, trustworthy, attentive. And in many ways, she _is_ the perfect lover.

But, at times, I still can't help but feel like I am in a relationship with a ghost.

It's almost as though I've been handed the most beautiful box in the world. I have this box to love and cherish for the rest of my life, and it amazes me and brings me such pleasure every day. The only thing is, I am never allowed to open the box and see what is inside. It's tormenting, especially because I am confident what is inside the box is even more beautiful then what is on the outside.

It makes you wonder if things would have been better if you had never been handed the box at all.

Not even bothering to smother my sigh, I pull into an open space in the lab parking lot. It's early, and not many cars are present at this off hour. Stepping out, I see Sara's Tahoe parked a few spots down, black paint glistening in the harsh Nevada sun. I'm not surprised to find Sara here already. However, walking past, I _am_ surprised when I see Sara herself standing outside the passenger door. I pause as I watch her pull off her shirt, tossing it into the back of the vehicle. Reaching inside, she pulls out a different shirt and pulls it over her head, lean limbs stretching as she tugs it into place. Smoothing her hair down with one hand, she closes the car door with the other. Turning, she stops in her tracks as she catches sight of me.

Standing silently, we both assess each other for a moment, neither one of us knowing quite what to do or say.

Finally breaking the silence, I gesture to her car. "Changing for work in the parking lot, usually the sign of a late night."

She continues to stare at me, expression unreadable. "Something like that."

Turning my head, I break our staring contest with a loud sneeze. Groaning in frustration, I pull a tissue from my pocket in a futile attempt to clear out the oppressive congestion.

Furrowing her brow, Sara takes a hesitant step closer to me. "Are you sick?"

I shove the tissue back into my pocket with a shrug. "Something like that."

Shaking her head, Sara steps closer and hands me her unopened bottle of water. "Here, you should be drinking."

Taking it, I tug absently at the label, unsure of what to say.

Placing her hands in her pockets, Sara seems just as uncomfortable. Gesturing to the water, she almost grimaces. "Sorry, I didn't mean to 'protect' you or anything…I just…you're sick…so…"

Meeting her hesitant eyes, I send her a small smile, "No, I appreciate it. Thank you."

She sighs, "You're welcome."

Figuring that this situation couldn't be any more awkward if Ecklie ran between us buck naked, I decide to solve the problem by simply walking away towards the lab. I hear Sara following behind me in silence, and she surprises me by calling out my name.

"Yeah?"

When I turn, Sara is silhouetted by the early morning sun, and I am lost for a moment in the image.

"Tonight, the thing at Nancy's. I don't have to go if it will make you uncomfortable."

Pulled out of my haze, I shake my head. I had almost forgotten about the dinner at Nancy's that we had set up weeks ago. Chris and Nancy finally have a day off together and wanted to have us over for a meal to officially celebrate their engagement – just the four of us.

"No, Sara, it would mean a lot to Nancy to have you there."

Nodding her head, she begins to move away.

"And to me."

Turning, Sara's eyes lock with mine for a brief moment before she silently nods again and finishes her journey into the lab.

* * *

Pulling up to my sister's house, I let out a sigh. Sitting in my car silently as the engine cools, I stare out into the darkness. I don't know how this is all going to go. Tonight. Tomorrow. I don't know what I am doing anymore, quite frankly. I know I need to figure things out with Sara, but to be honest I don't really know where to begin. This time in my life, my sister getting engaged and beginning her life with the man that she loves, was everything that I dreamed about. Except, in those dreams, Sara and I were there right alongside them lending our support. And, most importantly, we were there _together_. I don't know how to deal with this fractured reality, this reality that holds certain pieces of my dreams intact while others are nearly shattered beyond recognition.

Letting out another sigh, I blow my nose and check my makeup. Deciding I look relatively presentable, I decide I can't spend the whole night in my car and exit the vehicle.

Stepping onto my sister's porch, my breath catches in my throat as a figure steps out from the darkness.

"Hey."

"Jesus, you scared me," I state, my hand placed over my chest.

Sara stifles a small smile, but it somehow looks more like a grimace. "Apparently. Sorry." Gesturing to the door, she shrugs, "I wanted to wait for you. I wasn't sure how much you've told your sister about…our situation. I didn't want to say anything you weren't comfortable with, so I thought I would let you take the lead on this one."

I'm surprised at Sara's comment regarding her lack of communication with Nancy; I guess it means that I am not the only Willows sister Sara has been giving space right now.

"I haven't told her anything about it yet. Thanks."

Nodding, Sara quirks her head at me. "You feeling any better?"

"If by better you mean much worse, then yes."

Sara's eyes fill with concern, and I can tell that she wants nothing more than to be able to take me into her arms like she used to.

"I'm sorry, Catherine. Is there anything I can do?" Her voice is sad, worried.

"No."

The curtness of my response surprises her, and she narrows her eyes a bit.

I laugh, and it sounds empty and callous to my own ears.

"It's hard seeing someone you love hurting and not being able to do anything about it, isn't it? Well, welcome to my world, Sara," I finish, my voice growing dead serious.

Sara takes a step back from me, her face contorting into something I don't recognize.

"I'm not hurting, Catherine. I'm fine, and I have _been_ fine."

"Yeah? How many more nights were you going to spend on the couch before you told me you were still having nightmares about your mother? How many more times where you going to sneak around, making sure you were in bed with me in the morning so your clueless lover wouldn't suspect a thing? Your lover who has had to pretend night after night not to hear you screaming in terror in the other room? Had to pretend the next morning that everything was fine, that they didn't just spend the night in tears as they were forced to sit there and listen to their lover's torment because they aren't allowed to comfort or help the woman that they love."

Sara is frozen in place and her features have gone pale at my words. It's clear that I have thrown her completely off with the revelation that she wasn't nearly as successful at hiding her nights on the couch as she thought she was. She looks torn, like she desperately wants to say something but can't get her brain to form the words that she needs.

Frankly, I don't have the energy to be having this discussion right now. Before she can get herself together, I step to the front door and walk inside, leaving Sara on the porch.

Hugging my sister and Chris, we are exchanging our hellos when I hear Sara finally enter the house and close the door behind her. Glancing over at her, I see that she is trying her best to put on a neutral expression, but I can tell that she is still deeply shaken by my words.

"Sara!" Nancy exclaims, taking the bottle of wine from Sara's hands and pulling her in for a hug. Sara stiffens at the contact, almost pulling herself out of my sister's arms completely as the embrace is simply too much for her right now.

Trying to smile to cover her reaction, Sara steps away towards the kitchen. "You need help with dinner?"

Looking between me and Sara curiously, Nancy shrugs, "Yeah, sure, thanks."

* * *

After an awkward disaster of a dinner filled with many stilted silences, Chris and I are doing the dishes in the kitchen. And when I say that dinner was awkward, that would be an understatement. Poor Chris kept trying to start conversation, with Nancy eagerly joining in and trying to engage others. For my part, I tried to be polite, adding comments and smiles at the appropriate times. Sara, however, was completely lost throughout the entire dinner. She was clearly distracted, her eyes staring pensively at the table, her answers to any questions directed to her stilted and unnatural.

With a sigh, I dry the dish Chris hands me and place it on the counter. Reaching out for the next dish, I nearly drop it when suddenly I hear my sister's raised voice coming from the living room.

Turning off the water, Chris and I rush over to see what the commotion is about.

"Just leave, Sara! Get the hell out of my house!" My sister's voice is angry and her heated gaze is directed at Sara with such force that I involuntarily clench the dishrag tighter in my hands.

My sister, the queen of innocence and tranquility, does not often get angry. And when she does, it's certainly not like this.

Turning on her heel, Nancy sends Sara one last disgusted look before exiting the room and disappearing further into the house.

Sara's jaw is clenched tightly as she stares at the spot Nancy had just occupied moments before. Struggling to take in a shallow breath, her eyes meet mine briefly from across the room. Chris steps forward, drawing her eyes away from me and to his approaching form. I can see his image reflected in Nancy's living room window as he comes to a stop in front of her.

"I think my fiancé asked you to leave," Chris states, his voice sounding sad and regretful.

However, I feel my heart drop when I surprisingly see a smirk crossing his features in the reflection. Sara's eyes bore into his, and I am shocked to see him give her a sadistic looking wink before he turns back around to face me.

By now, his expression has morphed back into pained regret. "I'm sorry," he offers to me in a genuine sounding voice before heading after Nancy. However, for the first time, I begin to doubt his sincerity. Nothing felt right about the expression on his face and the tormenting wink he sent to Sara only moments ago when he thought no one but her could see his face.

Sara's eyes are focused on the carpet in front of her, a mix of fury and pain clearly displayed across her features. Finally, she turns, making her way to the door.

"Sara, wait-"

Shaking her head, her pained eyes meet mine one last time as she quietly mumbles, "I'm sorry" and closes the door soundly behind her.

* * *

"What the hell was that about?" I demand from Nancy when I find her alone in her back laundry room leaning against the washer with her head in her hands.

Raising her eyes to meet mine, they look as though she has been crying. I can count the number of times I have seen Nancy cry, really cry, on one hand.

"I'm sorry, Catherine. I really am. I just finally lost it with her."

"Yeah, I think I figured that part out, Nance. But what happened?"

Sighing, Nancy looks genuinely hurt. "It's obvious that Sara doesn't like Chris. Hell, it's been obvious since the beginning. I thought they had worked out their issues or whatever, but then she avoids hanging out with me lately, making up lame excuses and avoiding my calls. And then tonight, when she finally agrees to be in my presence, it's like she can't stand to be here. If this is how it's going to be between us now that I'm engaged to Chris, then I can't have her in my life."

She shakes her head in frustration. "You saw her tonight, she looked like she was physically ill just being here. She hardly said two words at dinner, it was obvious this was the last place she wanted to be. And you know what, it's insulting. I'm not asking her to be best friends with Chris, but she could at least put in some effort – at least _pretend_ to be happy for me."

I sigh, knowing good and well just how much Sara _has been_ pretending to like Chris. And knowing good and well that her attitude tonight had nothing to do with Nancy's fiancé.

"Nancy, it wasn't about you and Chris."

Nancy scoffs, "Please. You don't have to cover for her, Cath. I'm a big girl, I can handle it."

I shake my head, "No, really, Nancy. It wasn't your engagement that had her avoiding you lately and so on edge tonight. It was me."

Finally seeing my serious expression, Nancy's anger morphs more into confusion. "You?"

I sigh, "Yeah."

"Catherine, what's going on?"

I hesitate.

"Sara and I aren't together anymore, Nance. Not right now, at least."

"WHAT?" Nancy exclaims, the shock in her voice mirroring the shock on her face.

When I'm silent, she steps closer. "Catherine, what happened? When did this happen? Why didn't you tell me?"

Not registering the tears on my face until my sister has me enfolded in her arms, I break down as she rubs my back gently.

"God, Catherine, I am so sorry," she says over and over again, her voice now soft and solemn. Finally pulling away, she ushers me into the kitchen. "Come on, sit down, tell me everything."

Looking around, I hesitate, "But Chris…"

Poking his head around the corner, he has his keys in his hand. "Don't worry about me, I'll stay at my place tonight. You guys need the privacy to talk." Sending me a warm and sympathetic smile, he turns and leaves the house.

Not knowing what to think about Chris right now, I instead explain everything that happened between Sara and I to my sister. Everything.

After my explanation, which is about four cups of coffee later, Nancy is silent for a moment, obviously deep in thought as she taps her fingers against one another.

"When you blew up at her in the lab, do you think you were really that mad at Sara about her not letting you in, or do you think you were scared about just learning that your life may be in danger? Again."

Looking at her in confusion, she raises her hands in surrender. "I'm sorry, really. It just seems like, maybe, you dragged up another issue to distract you from the first."

It's not a secret that when I'm upset or scared about something that I'll often focus on something else to keep my mind away from what really has me bothered.

I sigh, "Maybe. But it doesn't mean that it still doesn't bother me. Even if it wasn't what I was originally upset about."

Nodding, Nancy takes my hand. "I get that, I really do. But I also get that you have a woman in your life that loves you beyond imagining. Someone that would literally die trying to protect you. Yeah, it's frustrating, because she is also elusive and closed off, but is that frustration worth ending everything else you have with her?"

I remain silent, and after a moment Nancy sighs.

"Look, you and Sara are opposites in a lot of ways. You like to help people, she doesn't like to be helped. You like to talk things out, she likes to work things out alone. You like to feel needed, she doesn't like to feel needy. I could go on. But at the same time, it's easy to see that you two are soulmates – perfect for each other. Sara has really tried to open up more, letting you in when she would rather not, right?"

I sigh. "Right." And it's true. Even though Sara still keeps a lot to herself, such as the fact that she has been sleeping every night on the couch, she has also tried to let me in more than she used to. For example, by admitting to me that she was having nightmares about her mother in the first place.

Nancy squeezes my hand, "I think you maybe need to try to compromise with her. She's been trying hard to overcome her fears and discomfort to please you, and I think you need to be okay with what she has given you for now. These things take time, Catherine."

She pauses, looking at me with mixed emotions. "Especially for people with pasts as dark as hers."

Getting her gist, I squeeze her hand in return. "I know."

"Be patient, she's worth it. And, so is your happiness."

Sending me a smile, Nancy pulls me in for a hug.

"I love you."

"I love you, too, Nance."

Pulling away, Nancy grins at me. "Now, go chase down your mysterious mistress and tell her all about what an idiot you are."

I can't help but laugh. "Fine, but you have some apologizing to do as well, young lady."

Her face growing serious, Nancy runs her hand through her hair. "Yeah, I think my soap opera inspired scene of throwing her out of my house was probably not the best move for our friendship."

Sending her a sympathetic smile, I shake my head, "Probably not."

Saying our farewells, I hop into my Tahoe, hoping desperately that Sara is somewhere capable of being found.

* * *

**AN: Thank you for reading. Comments and thoughts are always welcomed and appreciated.**


	17. Chapter 17

**AN: Hope everyone is well. Thank you thank you thank you for all your kind words for the last chapter. You all have no idea how much your support means.**

**Take care and enjoy.**

* * *

CATHERINE POV

Turns out, Sara was not anywhere capable of being found. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if someone told me she left the state with the amount of fruitless searching I did last night in every place I could conceive of.

It was only a stroke of luck this morning that I found her at all.

Taking Mesa out for a bathroom break, I decided to make up for the lack of running he's been having due to Sara's absence and play some fetch with him. Let's just say that sports have never really been my strong suit.

On my third throw, the ball went much farther than I had planned, rolling out into the street and heading down the sloping hill. Seeing Mesa give chase, I was worried that he would be hit by a car when he suddenly stopped. Ignoring his ball as it continued to roll away, his ears became perked and he turned to the side, turning to face a black Tahoe parked near the end of the street.

Instantly, my heart beat increased. Jogging up to the SUV, I glanced at the license plate to confirm my suspicions.

It was Sara's car. And, that is where I find myself now; staring at her vehicle, breathless.

Peaking in the Tahoe, I frown in concern when I see Sara's form slumped limply over the steering wheel. Gently tapping on the window, I cringe when I see her jerk awake and instantly reach for the gun at her side.

Seeing that it's only me, she rolls down the window, still breathing heavily.

"Hey," she states, as if this was a perfectly normal way to encounter each other.

"Hey, yourself. Mind if I come in?" I ask, gesturing to the passenger seat.

"Actually, you mind if I come out? I think my legs could use some stretching."

"Sure." I open the door for her as she stiffly exits the vehicle.

Hearing more than a few joints crack as she stretches herself out, I can't help but grimace at the sound. "You alright?"

Nodding, Sara rubs at the indentation on her temple from the steering wheel. "Yup."

I laugh. I can't help it. The ridiculous way we are both trying to play this situation off as normal, plus the fact that Sara has half a Chevy symbol outlined on her cheek, it's all too much.

Raising her brows, Sara looks at me, "What?"

Reaching out, I rub gently at her cheek, working out some of the indentations. The brunette stands perfectly still, her eyes watching me intently.

Pulling my hand away, my eyes finally meet hers. "Better," I mumble, distracted.

"Thanks." Her own voice is distracted as well.

Finally breaking us out of our haze, I gesture to the Tahoe. "Did you spend the whole night in there?"

Judging by the fact that her clothing is the same as she was wearing last night at dinner, I think I already have my answer.

"Yes," she states, looking away.

I can tell by her posture that Sara is tense, nervous even.

Reaching out, I take hold of her clenched jaw to turn her face towards me. Waiting for a moment, her hazel gaze finally joins with mine.

"I was an idiot, Sara. To even question if I want to be with you, who was I kidding. I love you, more than you will ever know, and my life would not be worth living without you in it. I asked you to change yourself for me, and that was something I never should have done. I want you as you are, nothing more, nothing less."

Feeling her posture shift under my fingers, I let go of her.

Looking down, she pinches the bridge of her nose. "I tried so hard, Catherine, I really did. I want to be everything you want me to be…"

Shaking my head, I regain my hold on her face, this time using both hands to pull her gaze back to mine. "I don't want you to be anything other than Sara Sidle. Ever. You hear me?"

After a long pause, Sara finally nods her head. "Yes."

"Good," I state, feeling the tension in my body finally starting to release its hold on me.

Reaching forward, Sara gently strokes my cheek with her hand. Leaning in, she places a soft kiss on my lips before pulling away.

"You shouldn't have done that, I'm going to get you sick."

Sara smirks, then promptly leans in to kiss me again. This time with tongue involved.

"Small price to pay."

Pulling away again, I note that her expression is still a bit guarded, and I know it is going to take some time for us to get completely back to the way things were. I'm just happy to be on the road to recovery.

"Let me make you some tea before we head in for work?" she asks, her voice soft, caring.

Nodding, I can't help but smile as we make our way up towards the house.

Our house.

* * *

NANCY POV

To say I was nervous would be like saying that the soil got a bit damp during a flood.

Pacing back and forth on my sister's porch, I idly fidget with the towel Sara left hanging over the railing for the end of her run. I am half afraid I am going to wear the thing down to threads before Sara arrives.

Hearing footsteps approaching, I glance up to see Sara ascending the drive with Mesa at her feet. Trotting up the steps, Mesa gives me a quick lick hello before disappearing inside. At least one of them is happy to see me.

Turning around, I find that Sara is barely paying me any attention. If it weren't for her slightly quirked brow as she pulls off her sweaty t-shirt, I would think that she hadn't seen me at all. Looking at her, I watch her trim muscles move as she bends down in nothing but a sports bra to remove her socks and shoes.

"You going to stand there and ogle me, or do you think you could hand me my towel?" she asks, her head tilted up at me as she finishes removing her last sock.

Snapping to attention, cheeks turning red, I hold out the towel to her. "Of course, sorry."

I am secure enough in my sexuality to be able to admit that Sara is ridiculously easy on the eyes. Especially when she has removed half her clothing. It still doesn't mean that I don't feel embarrassed that she has caught me staring at her like some sort of voyeur.

"Here," I state, breaking the moment and holding out a bottle of water I brought as a bit of a peace offering.

Taking a couple polite swallows, she looks at me questioningly. "Thanks."

Deciding it's time to bite the bullet, I let out a breath. "I'm sorry for kicking you out of my house the other day, Sara. I had no right to treat you like that, especially since Catherine explained to me what was really going on between the two of you."

Sara shrugs, "It's fine. I acted like a jerk that night. I would have thrown me out, too."

I smile, "No, you wouldn't have. But thanks for saying it."

A ghost of a smile graces Sara's lips. "You're welcome."

Getting serious again, I look her in the eyes. "You really don't like Chris though, do you?"

She is looking at me when I ask it, and all I need is to see her eyes in that instant to know the answer. She looks away quickly, but it's much too late. I already saw the truths they held.

"Well," I sigh, "at least I wasn't completely off base with my thinking."

Shaking her head, Sara tosses the towel on the porch swing. "I'm sorry, Nancy, I really am. I wish I could lie to you, but I just don't trust him." Her eyes return to bore into mine. "I don't want to see you get hurt."

"I love him, Sara. And I know that he loves me. I would trust him with my life."

Looking at me, Sara is obviously at a loss for what to say. Her posture is stiff, and I can tell that the conversation is making her physically uncomfortable.

"Well, you know him best," she states, choosing an answer somewhat neutral.

"Yes, I do." My voice is confident, mirroring my confidence in the statement itself. I appreciate Sara's opinion, but in the end, I know Chris better than anyone.

"Nancy," she says in a somewhat cautious voice, "I understand if you don't want to do the friendship thing with me after this. I wouldn't blame you for not wanting me around. Don't feel obligated."

Folding my arms across my chest, I take in the sincerity of her words. "I'm not going to say things will be the same between us, Sara, but you're my friend. And you're my friend for the long haul. Do I wish things were different? Of course I do. But they aren't, so I guess I am going to have to take what I can get."

Even as I am saying the words, I wonder how true they are. Reading the expression on her face, I know that Sara is well aware of my doubts and likely has matching doubts of her own.

I think we both know that it's an understatement to say that things won't be the same between us. In fact, I hate myself for it, but I wonder if using the word friends to describe our relationship is actually an overstatement even at this current point in time.

I think we both know the reality of the situation, but are both too polite to say it aloud.

Hard as she tries to hide it, the hurt in Sara's eyes is clear to read as she gathers her stuff stiffly from the porch. "Alright. Good. Thanks for stopping by."

Nodding, I throw an empty sounding "Take care" over my shoulder as I make my way down the drive.

We have obviously reached a crossroads in our relationship, and, unfortunately, it seems that we have decided to walk in opposite directions.

* * *

CATHERINE POV

"Come on, let me take you home," Sara states, her already smoky voice quieted as to not aggravate my already pounding headache.

Looking up, I close my case file in defeat. "Fine, I'm too tired to argue with you."

A small smile gracing her lips, Sara stands and picks up my paperwork for me. "Well, that's certainly a first."

Smacking her with as much strength as I can muster, we make our way down the hall and out to the parking lot.

Holding the passenger door open for me, Sara helps me get situated before heading around and climbing into the driver seat. While my cold isn't anything serious, it certainly has been putting a damper on my days. I hate being sick, and I cannot wait to start feeling better.

Driving silently, the smooth motions of the car along with the warmth of the setting sun splayed across my face are nearly enough to put me to sleep. Leaning my head back, I am surprised when I feel something soft against my ear. Reaching behind my head, I pull out the offending item, which ends up being a shirt I recognize as Sara's. Glancing behind me to toss the shirt into the back, I am surprised to find numerous t-shirts and even some jeans and dress pants folded neatly along the backseat of the car.

"Uh, Sar?"

"Yeah?" she asks distractedly as she skillfully merges with traffic.

"Where have you been sleeping those past nights when you didn't come home?"

Sara is silent for a moment, her eyes hidden behind her sunglasses. "Nowhere in particular. Why?"

Finally looking over when I don't respond, Sara sees what I am looking at and releases a breath with a shake of her head. "I love it when you ask questions you already know the answer to."

I smile at her frustration, it's not often I am able to figure Sara out or call her on her bullshit. "You slept in your car? All those nights?"

It's obvious that the question is rhetorical, and Sara doesn't even attempt an answer.

"Couldn't you have gotten a hotel room or something?"

Shaking my head, I place the shirt on the bench along with all the others. That's when I notice the notepad, binoculars, and about a dozen empty coffee cups stacked carefully along the floorboard.

"Uh, Sara?"

"Yeah?" she asks, much more wary this time around.

"Are you stalking someone?"

Sara's brows furrow together, and she glances quickly behind her. Once again seeing what I am looking at, she groans.

"Why can't you just sit there and fall asleep like any other sick person?"

I scoff, "Oh, Sidle, that would be much too easy for you." Getting serious again, I gaze at her profile. "You were camped out outside our house, weren't you? Keeping an eye on me because of Trip Trenton's partner still being on the loose?"

Sara shrugs, looking in her side mirror as she changes lanes.

I know that Sara doesn't want to make a big deal about the fact that she spent the last couple nights cramped in her SUV just so she could be sure I was safe. Especially since I'm pretty sure Brass is still having patrol cars swing by our place at least a couple times a night to keep an eye on things. Judging by the amount of coffee cups, Sara likely sacrificed more than just comfort in the arrangement. But, to her, things like this are simply what a person does for someone they care about. They don't leave their safety in the hands of people they barely know.

"Thank you."

Nodding, Sara keeps her gaze focused on the road ahead of her. I know I threw a fit the other day about Sara trying to be my guardian instead of my friend, but I think I am finally starting to realize that she is perhaps my guardian _because_ I am her friend. I consider Sara my best friend, and I would have easily done the same for her.

Entering the house a short time later, Sara all but forces me to lie on the couch while she makes something for me to eat. Smelling the mouthwatering aroma of homemade soup, I feel my appetite returning with a vengeance.

Placing a steaming bowl in front of me as she kisses me lightly, Sara sits in the arm chair across from me with a bowl of her own. Just as I am about to raise the spoon to my lips, there is a gentle knock on the front door. Raising her brow, Sara sets her soup down and makes her way silently to the door, glancing out the side window on her way.

"Hey," I hear Sara greet the visitor, her voice strangely guarded.

"Hi," is the response, in a voice I clearly recognize as Nancy's. "You mind if I come in?"

"Not at all."

The guarded and forcedly polite exchange is awkward, to say the least, and it makes me disappointed to see that Sara and Nancy are still obviously having issues after the scene at my sister's house the other night. I would have thought they would have talked things out by now.

Entering the room, Nancy sends me a small wave, gesturing to the soup in my hand. "Hey sis, feeling any better?"

Nodding, I send her a warm smile. "Now I am. I swear, Sara's vegetable soup has mystical powers – nothing of this world should taste this good."

I hear Sara snort from behind me, and I don't have to look at her to know that she is rolling her eyes.

A moment passes, and no one says anything, the three of us obviously trying to figure out the uncomfortable dynamics of the situation we find ourselves in.

Clearing her throat, Sara is the first to speak.

"Help yourself, Nancy, it's a fresh bowl," Sara says, gesturing to her untouched soup sitting on the coffee table. "I'm going to go for a walk, let you guys have some space."

From her expression, I think it's obvious that Sara is the one in need of space right now. Sending her a nod and supportive smile, I watch as she holds the door open for Mesa and follows him out. Watching Sara leave, my sister shakes her head and sets herself down in Sara's abandoned seat.

"I can't, I'm sorry…I just can't…" my sister mutters, mostly to herself. The stress pouring off of her is nearly palpable, causing feelings of concern to rise within myself. Something about seeing my little sister so obviously upset makes me want nothing more than to wrap her in my arms and protect her from the world.

"You can't what, Nancy?" I ask gently, effectively pulling her out of her haze as her eyes meet mine.

"I can't do the friendship thing with Sara right now, I really really can't. She was right, and I was kidding myself to think otherwise," she says, her voice soft. "I'm sorry."

Raising my brow at her, she lets out a huff and picks up the bowl of soup in front of her. Taking a hesitant spoonful, she quickly drops the spoon back into the bowl in frustration. "And, of course, her soup is fucking amazing."

I can't help but let out a small laugh at that, but my expression grows more sympathetic as I see how genuinely upset my sister is right now. "What's got you so upset with her, Nance?"

Nancy hesitates, "She's your girlfriend, Catherine…"

I nod, acknowledging her point. "Yes, and you are my sister," I tell her pointedly.

Sending me a soft nod, Nancy leans back in her chair. "She doesn't like Chris. At all." Shaking her head, she sends her heated gaze my way, "He's my fiancé, for crying out loud. Is it too much to ask for your supposed best friend to be supportive of you?"

I let out a breath, realizing that this is very tricky territory we are trotting into. "Wouldn't you rather your best friend be honest with you, though?" I ask, hoping my sister doesn't explode on me.

Looking away, Nancy runs her fingers through her hair. "Honestly? Not really. Not when she's wrong." Looking at me pointedly, she says, "And she _is_ wrong."

"Okay," I say, raising my hands in surrender. "I'm just saying. Sara doesn't like it when people lie to her, and I'm assuming she is just approaching this in the manner that she would want it to be approached in. If the situation were reversed, she would want you to tell her about your reservations."

Nancy all but growls, "But the situation isn't reversed! How about she approach this the way that _I_ would like to be treated, not the way _she_ would want to be treated."

Deciding to switch the topic a bit in order to calm my sister down, I ask, "Have you two talked about this?"

Nancy sighs, "I stopped by the other day to talk things out. She told me about her reservations, and that was about it. We pretty much agreed to disagree. I don't think there is anything else even to be said about the matter."

Looking up at me after a moment, she looks more defeated than angry. "I just don't get why she is so steadfast about her opinion when both me and you think that Chris is perfect for me, and she is the only one with doubts. Why can't she just see him the way that we do?"

I look away, trying to hide my hesitance and my own doubts that have begun to rise about Chris since the day at Nancy's house when I saw him sneer at Sara when he thought no one was looking.

However, I do not hide it quickly enough.

"No, no fucking way!"

Nancy immediately shoots to her feet, pointing an angry finger in my direction. "You do _not _get to tell me that she has gotten to you, too!"

Raising my hands, I get to my own feet. "Hey, hold on a minute. I haven't even said anything!"

Shaking her head in disgust, Nancy all but spits, "You didn't have to! It's written across your face! This is just great, fucking great. Now you both hate Chris."

Nancy starts to move past me, but I quickly reach out and grab her arm. "Hey, you don't get to just storm out of here before at least giving me a chance to tell you what I am really thinking."

"Fine," Nancy growls. "Tell me all the ways you think Chris is going to hurt me and how my life with him will be nothing but a huge mistake."

Raising my brow at her, I let her calm down a minute before I speak.

"I do not think your life with Chris is going to be a 'huge mistake'. I like Chris, I really do, and I think you both will be very happy together," I state as Nancy looks like she is about to interrupt. Tightening my grip on her arm, I continue before she can open her mouth, "The only reason I hesitate, Nance, is that I saw him give Sara a look the night you two fought at your house. It wasn't a friendly look at all, and he immediately changed his expression when he knew I could see him. But when he thought only Sara could see him…" I trail off, "That look he gave her made me uncomfortable, Nancy. And I could see in that moment why Sara doubted his intentions."

Nancy gets eerily quiet and still, causing my brows to furrow. After a moment, before I have a chance to react, Nancy wrenches her arm free of my grip, her voice cold. "Great, because he _looked_ at Sara, a person who he feels has disliked him since the beginning, in a weird way, now you don't trust him either. That's perfect, Catherine. Why don't you and Sara just learn to mind your own fucking business and come talk to me when you have more than a goddamn _look_ he gave someone as a reason. Until then, just leave me alone. Hell, leave _us _alone."

Without another word, she storms off towards the door.

"Nancy!" I yell, trying to get her to stop and turn around, but she ignores me, slamming the front door behind her so hard that the picture frames on the walls rattle in their places.

Hearing a scuffle on the porch, I can make out the muffled voice of my sister as she growls, "Do not even think about coming near me, Sara. Not now, not ever. Stay the hell out of my life."

A moment later, I hear tires kicking up gravel as she pulls away. After about a minute, Sara comes through the front door, a confused and hurt expression across her face. Her eyes meeting mine, her expression rapidly changes to concern.

Quickly coming to my side, she has me in her arms a moment before my legs give out. Holding me tightly to herself, she supports all of my weight as I cry into her chest.

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**AN: Uh oh, one relationship fixed...two others, not so much. Apparently it is beyond my abilities to simply have everyone all happy at the same time...at least not yet ;) **


	18. Chapter 18

**AN: Onto the next chapter. Hope everyone is doing well. Thank you again to the kind reviewers of the last chapter, your words are beyond inspirational to me as this story moves on.**

**Take care and enjoy.**

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CATHERINE POV

My sister has lost her damn mind.

That's all I can think of to say regarding the situation with Nancy.

My sister has never before avoided me to such lengths. I had to find out from her voicemail yesterday that she was headed out of town. Her fucking _voicemail_. I get to find out with a bunch of strangers where my own sister is.

Nancy and I have always been close, and to be anything less than such is nearly killing me inside. I don't know where to go from here, I don't know how we recover from this. I don't know if we _can_ recover from this.

"I'm sorry, Catherine," Sara whispers into my hair as we lay together in our bed. It's late into the night, but neither of us can sleep. I don't think we have gotten any decent rest since my sister walked out on us two days ago.

Holding me tighter when I don't immediately respond, Sara lets out a breath. "I am so sorry."

Lacing my fingers through hers where they rest protectively around my waist, I give her hands a gentle squeeze. "I know, sweetheart."

Sara has been devastated about what has happened between my sister and I. Her worst fears about her reservations regarding Chris causing a rift in our relationship with Nancy have all come true. Vividly.

I think Sara expected the fallout that she personally got from Nancy, but I know she was hoping that the situation would remain solely between the two of them. Then, all that hope was violently shattered to pieces right in front of her when my sister stormed out of our house and left me crying in her arms.

Turning my head slightly where it rests on her shoulder, I look up at her, keeping my grip on her hands tight. "This is not your fault, Sara. I made the decision to admit my own reservations about Chris to Nancy. What happened between us is a result of my own decisions, not yours."

She keeps her eyes fixed on the ceiling, watching the shadows move languidly across the room. "But maybe you wouldn't have had your own reservations if it weren't for me. If I hadn't put that idea in your head in the first place. You always liked Chris, and I can't help but feel like I somehow ruined that for you."

Turning to watch the shadows myself, I slowly shake my head. "I liked Chris, sure. And I think in the end I _still_ like Chris. But when he gave you that look, Sara, for the first time I truly saw your point of view. Maybe Nancy is right, maybe he was just being a jerk with you because he knows you don't like him. Or maybe you are right, and Chris was just being a jerk because he _is_ a jerk. I don't know what to think anymore. But what I _do_ know is that I asked you to be honest with me about Chris, and you were. You were honest with both Nancy and I, and in the end you should never have to apologize for expressing what you truly feel. Not to me, not to her."

I feel Sara take a deep breath, but it doesn't do much to relieve the tension I still feel in her frame. "I just want the two of you to be okay. I hate seeing how much this is hurting you right now," she says, her voice low.

I move one of my hands from hers to lay it softly across her chest. "It's hurting us both, Sara, and that's the important thing to remember in all of this. There are two of us, and we are in this together. Whatever ends up happening between Nancy and I or Nancy and you doesn't change that. You have me and I have you – neither one of us are alone in this. Wherever it takes us."

Sara is quiet for a few moments, her breathing slowly moving my hand up and down where it rests.

"You scare me to death," she finally says, her voice barely a whisper.

Furrowing my brows, I angle my head upward so that I can see her face. Her expression is serious, almost troubled. Her eyes are still fixed on the ceiling, focusing intently on something I imagine is beyond the confines of this room.

Before I can question her, she swallows and continues. "I have always been alone. As a kid I was alone because of circumstance. But, as an adult, I was alone because I _liked_ being alone. It's what I knew, what I was comfortable with. It became a part of me, part of who I was. But then," she says quietly, her gaze finally moving to meet mine, "But then I met you."

Her eyes are intense, dark in the moonlight. "I met you…and…and now I don't want to be alone anymore," she says, her gaze nearly faltering for a moment, but she works hard to keep it on mine. "It scares me shitless, Catherine," she admits in a whisper.

I feel her take a trembling breath, and I feel moisture fill my eyes as I reach out to run my fingers softly through her hair.

"You have told me before that you worry that I don't need you," she says before I can even form my thoughts into words. "I need you, Catherine. So much that it physically hurts. But, I think more importantly than that, is the fact that I _want_ you. You aren't just there to fill some _need_ in my life, Catherine Willows, you are there because I _want_ you to be there...by my side…every step of the way."

Tears now falling freely from my eyes, my hand in her hair stills, coming to rest along the side of her face. Keeping our gazes locked, I find my thumb moving to slowly travel across the surface of her lips, almost as if it wants to physically feel the words that my ears just heard. Words that I know, somewhere deep inside, I have been waiting to hear from her.

Finally breaking our gazes, I lean in and gently kiss the woman that I love.

"Thank you," I say before kissing her again, the words so quiet that I suspect only the night can hear them.

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CATHERINE POV

In the lab with Sara Monday morning, we are working our way through the evidence from our latest Vergenson scene. Sara has continued to be absolutely wonderful ever since Nancy stormed out of our house nearly four days ago. She has been so incredibly supportive of me and my own personal devastation, despite her own feelings of loss she must be having regarding having just lost her best friend.

If I'm honest, she's been all that has held me together as I start to come to terms with the reality that my relationship with my sister may never be the same.

Suddenly, Sara's cell phone ringing cuts through the dour silence permeating the room. Checking the caller ID, Sara furrows her brows as she clearly doesn't recognize the number.

"Sidle," she mutters, her attention still on the evidence in front of her.

"Are you sure?" I hear her ask a moment later after listening to what the caller had to say, her attention now clearly on the call.

The tone of her voice instantly draws my gaze.

The stiffness in her posture instantly draws my fear.

"Okay, thanks, I appreciate it," she states, hanging up as her eyes drift towards mine.

She has gone pale, and we simply stare at one another for a couple seconds.

"Where is Nancy?" Sara asks, her voice dangerously low.

Furrowing my brows, I put down my pen. "Probably still out of town. She went to Chris's lake house for the weekend," I tell her, remembering Nancy's voicemail recording.

If possible, Sara goes even paler, rising shakily to her feet. "Call her, now. She won't answer if I try."

"She won't answer for me, either," I respond gravely, disappointed and upset by the truth of the words as I say them aloud.

Sara moves towards the door, "Where is the lake house?"

I get up and step in front of her, "Sara, stop. What's going on?"

Looking up at me, Sara looks the most conflicted I think I have ever seen her. It's obvious that she doesn't want to tell me what is going on, but knows that she cannot reasonably keep this from me either.

"Sara…" I plead, taking hold of her arms. Absently, I realize she is trembling.

Turning her head, Sara talks more to the table than to me as she states, "That was Mrs. Trenton. She, uh, she told me that she remembered the nickname that her husband used to address his partner. The animal name she mentioned…"

Nodding anxiously, I turn Sara's head so that her gaze is forced to meet mine. "And?"

"And…it was the name of a dog. The nickname was Great Dane."

I furrow my brows, not getting what has her so frazzled. Then, like a swift fist to the stomach, I get her point.

"You don't think…"

Sara looks away, her disgust at having to be the one to utter the next words aloud to me permeating her features.

"Yes, I think it refers to Christian Dane," she mutters, the syllables sounding like they are strangling her as they make their way out of her throat.

I shake my head, "We don't know that, Sara. That's kind of a stretch, don't you think?"

Even as I say the words, I can feel the reality of the situation pushing the breath out of my chest. It's a horrible idea that Chris Dane could be the missing partner, and to an outsider _may_ seem like a stretch, but in my mind it fits perfectly. Somehow, inexplicably, I know the truth of the situation. I know that, despite my best efforts all this time to convince myself otherwise, Sara was right.

She was absolutely right.

Without warning, Sara turns and immediately throws up into the garbage can by the door. She finishes vomiting the scarce amount of food she grabbed this morning, dry heaving a few times before turning to hit the doorframe squarely with her fist. "Damn it!" she yells, hitting the frame again. "I should've done something…I never should have…I just sat by while he..."

I know better than to reach out to her right now, recognizing her anger and frustration, and most of all her need for physical distance.

Turning her heated gaze to me, she pulls her keys from her pocket. "I am so sorry, Catherine. So sorry about all of this. Can you tell me how to get to the lake house?"

Nodding my head, I step past her and into the hall. Turning to be sure that she is following me, I see the confusion on her face. "What? You think I'm letting you go out there alone, Sar? I'm coming with you. She's my sister."

Realizing that it would be a waste of time to argue, she simply follows me as we practically run to her Tahoe.

"We should call this in…" Sara mutters halfheartedly.

"And tell them what, Sara? That we think my sister's fiancé is Trip Trenton's long lost partner because he has a last name that matches a dog nickname Mrs. Trenton heard him use one time at her house to refer to a man she has never seen?"

I find it ironic that I am the one talking Sara out of calling for backup, ever the 'act now, think later' brunette, but I really don't see how we could convince anyone to take us seriously at this point. My priority right now is simply to get there and get Nancy as far away from Chris as I can, even if I have to use my gun and handcuffs to drag her away kicking and screaming. The thought of her alone with him at that isolated cabin…well, it's enough to make me feel like I am going to lose my own lunch.

Jumping into the Tahoe, I hold on tight as Sara peels out of the lot and out onto the freeway. We don't exchange words other than my giving her directions, both of our expressions tense as the lights and glitz of Vegas fade further behind us.

When Sara and I had first investigated the cases that Trip Trenton had tampered with in the evidence room, we found a total of three evidence boxes that had been disturbed. Those cases were all unsolved, and all involved dismemberment of the victims prior to their death. Dismemberment that was conducted in such a fashion that it was concluded to have required great skill. The skill of a surgeon.

Clenching my hand against the door handle, I wish to God now that I had never seen the digital copies of the crime scene photos taken from those cases. Now, all I can see is my sister's face transposed over the victims', her body being tortured and her life being violently snuffed out.

"Sara," I plead, my voice cracking.

Looking over at me quickly despite the reckless speed she is currently driving at, she holds her gaze with mine for a moment.

"I know," she tells me, before her eyes are forced back to the road.

Pulling off the main roads and onto a series of dirt paths, my stomach is in absolute knots as I see just how secluded this cabin is. Nancy described to me where it was after her first time there, and I knew that it was away from the city, but now I am realizing just how remote of a location this is.

The perfect location to….

I trail off, not allowing my thoughts to continue along that path. Instead, I pan the horizon with my eyes, shielding them against the desert sun. Spotting a cabin off to the left, I point it out to Sara who looks like she had already spotted it.

Stopping the car a good distance away, I look at her in confusion. "I don't know how to play this one out, Cath, but I don't think it's a good idea for him to know we are here before we get sight of him and your sister."

Nodding, I catch her drift and have to agree with her train of thought. We have no way of knowing what Chris's reaction is going to be when he sees us. We don't even know if Nancy is okay at this point.

Opening her door, Sara pulls her gun from her hip, checking to be sure that it is loaded. Shaking my head, I follow suit, hating the reality that I am about to storm in on my sister's romantic weekend with her fiancé with my service weapon. How the hell did things come to this?

Walking silently towards the cabin, we are about to reach it when I grab Sara by the back of her belt. Turning, she doesn't have time to question me as I press my lips to hers.

"I love you," I tell her simply.

She nods, gently holding the side of my face, "I love you, too. Always."

Turning back towards the cabin, we both take a deep breath as we approach the front door.

From inside, I think I feel my heart stopping as I can hear my sister crying. The sounds of her tears are only interrupted by angry shouts coming from Chris. Then, I feel my blood boil when I hear the distinct sound of a hand hitting skin, and I lose all rational thought as I literally kick the front door in with my weapon in hand.

The sight that I see before me is one that I will never forget for the rest of my life.

Nancy is kneeling on the floor, her lip swollen and bloody, eyes red with tears. Chris is standing above her, his face twisted in rage.

And, perhaps most importantly, he has a gun.

A gun that is pointed directly at my sister's face.

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**AN: Oh dear.**


	19. Chapter 19

**AN: Thank you thank you thank you to my reviewers – you guys are amazing and never fail to bring a smile to my face. You have no idea how much your reviews mean. I hope everyone is doing well, and I hope you enjoy this next chapter as things begin moving towards resolution. **

**One thing I did want to mention, I apologize for the time it has taken between chapters throughout this story…especially between the last chapter and this one (I really did not mean to leave you all with a cliffhanger for so long). As most of the story was finished prior to posting it, I thought it would take a lot less time to do some last minute revising/editing/proofing of chapters before posting them. Unfortunately, towards the beginning of this story some health issues came up that I thought had been resolved. While I quite frankly spend most of my time attempting to ignore them, my well-meaning plans to get these chapters out quickly have been a bit more of a struggle than anticipated – and I truly do apologize. The one upside is that being an insomniac gives me a couple extra hours each hectic day to get things done – hopefully no one has noticed that the majority of my writing and editing has been performed around three in the morning ;) Just know that I haven't forgotten about you all and will continue to try my best to get things posted as quickly as I can. Thank you all for baring with me throughout this story and I hope you will continue to do so as it starts to come to an end.**

**Take care everyone and enjoy :)**

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CATHERINE POV

"Catherine," Chris grins, his brown eyes sparkling and his gun pointed directly at my sister, "to what do we owe this pleasure?"

As I take a step towards them, he moves his finger to the trigger. "I wouldn't do that if I were you. In fact, I would put your gun on the ground before I put a hole through your sister's head."

I hesitate, and he pushes his gun into my sister's forehead, the grin gone. "Now."

Raising my hands in surrender, I slowly lower my weapon to the floor.

"Catherine, don't!" my sister pleads, wanting me to keep my weapon, my protection, with no regards to her own safety.

"Shut the fuck up," Chris spits, slamming his weapon into my sister's temple the moment my own weapon reaches the floor.

"Hey!" I yell, watching as my sister recovers, dabbing at the blood on her face with shaking fingers.

Grinning again, Chris approaches me, his gun now pointed in my direction. Grabbing my service weapon from the ground, he places it in the waistband of his jeans.

"Sorry, I slipped," he offers with a shrug.

I want nothing more than to kick him straight in the groin, but I don't dare risk my sister's life like that. No matter how satisfying it would be.

"Now, tell me where that stubborn lover of yours is."

I furrow my brows. "At the lab, where I should be."

Shaking his head, he laughs. "Please, Catherine, I'm not an idiot. And neither is she. Quite frankly, Sara's the only one out of you fools that saw me for who I was. There's no way she would let you go anywhere near me alone. Not here, not like this."

I shrug, "That's assuming I told her I was coming."

He assesses me for a moment, and I can see he is giving genuine consideration to my claim. Eventually, he shrugs. "Well, let's find out then, shall we?"

I don't know what he means, but his intentions become quite clear when he backhands me across the face not a moment later. I am caught completely off guard, causing me to yell out. I curse inwardly, as I realize that was exactly his plan.

"Hear that, Sara?" he yells, "It's going to continue until you come out and stop it!"

Reaching out, he hits me again. This time, I try to hold my breath as the temptation to call out through the pain is almost irresistible.

"Beg for her, Catherine!" he demands, pressing his gun into my cheek.

"No," I growl lowly, refusing to let him drag Sara into his trap this way.

"Beg!" he yells, this time hitting me so hard I fall to the floor.

"Stop!" I hear Sara shout from the now open back door. "Fucking stop, you son of a bitch!"

Chris laughs, pushing me back down with his boot as I try to stand. "Hand over your gun and I will."

"Fine, just don't touch her again," she says, her voice threatening.

"I don't think I can agree to that, Sara," Chris states with a sneer. "But I don't think I have to. You are going to lose your weapon, either the easy way or the hard way."

Sara's dark brows knit together as she takes hesitant steps further into the room, her gun still pointed at Chris's head as her eyes dart worriedly to me.

"Nancy, darling?" Chris calls, "Grab my stun gun from the table, won't you?"

Looking over, I see Nancy hesitate.

Leaning down and grabbing me by the neck he growls, "Now!"

Clenching her jaw, Nancy gets the object from the table. "Good, now walk up to your ex-best friend over there."

Sara's eyes now dart between Chris and Nancy, not sure of exactly where this is heading, but instinctually knowing that it's not headed anywhere good.

"Now, Sara, I am going to ask you one last time to hand over your weapon before I ask Nancy over there to rid you of it for me."

Sara's grip tightens on her weapon, "And I am going to ask you one last time to get your fucking hands off my girlfriend."

Chris smiles, "I knew you were going to be an excellent challenge." His smile slowly fades, "I appreciate your stubborn nature, I really do, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to put an end to this."

Looking over at Nancy, he nods his head. Nancy hesitates, long enough for him to clench his hand tighter around my throat, causing me to groan as it becomes harder to breathe. "Continue to hesitate, Nancy, and my fingers just squeeze harder. Don't make your sister suffer for the sake of your former friend over there. One of them is going to get hurt, it's either her or your sister. And you better choose fast."

Nancy turns towards Sara, tears in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Sara," she mutters through her tears before pulling the trigger on the stun gun.

Instantly, the gun fires to life, the sound of the electricity nearly deafening as the metal spikes hit Sara in the right shoulder. Immediately, Sara is dropped to her knees, her body convulsing with the current running through her body.

Nancy lets go of the trigger quickly, her hand shaking as she looks at Sara in horror. Sara is swaying on her knees, trying to keep her body upright as she continues to glare at Chris.

Without warning, Chris smacks me across the face again, this time drawing blood from my cheek.

Sara desperately tries to get to her feet with a furious growl, extremely unsteady as her legs aren't able to cooperate with her frantic need to get to me.

"See, I really couldn't agree to not touch her. And there's really nothing you can do about it, is there? Drop the gun."

"I am going to kill you," Sara promises from her kneeling position, her voice shaky but full of hatred, giving it a dark and eerie strength.

"Again, Nancy," Chris demands, maintaining his grip around my neck.

Tears make their way down Nancy's face as she again pulls the trigger, this time dropping Sara all the way to the ground.

Nancy lets up and Sara can only moan, but she is somehow still trying to make her way to her feet.

"Again."

"But-"

Chris hits me, forcing a yell from my lips. "I said again!"

Sara's body shakes violently as the electricity once again tears its way through her limbs.

When Nancy stops this time, Sara is gasping desperately for breath, her arms and legs limply grasping at the floor.

Seeing that Sara is no longer much of a threat, Chris drops his hand from my neck as he approaches Nancy.

Taking the stun gun from her hands while keeping his weapon trained on me, he makes his way towards Sara. Nancy, seeing her opportunity, moves over to me, helping me to my feet as I catch my breath.

"You still have your gun in your hands, Sara," he says in a scolding voice. "Tisk tisk."

It's obvious that Sara couldn't let go of her weapon at this point even if she wanted to, her body obviously no longer under her own command.

"F…fuck…..you," she seethes through clenched teeth, still trying to gain purchase on the ground.

Without warning, Chris pulls the trigger on the stun gun, watching with a smile as Sara convulses yet again, strangled noises forcing their way through her lips.

When he finally stops, she can barely move, her arms and legs now stationary and only her fingers left twitching with involuntary tremors.

Leaning over her, Chris uses his leg to kick the gun violently from her hand. I cringe as I see the angle that his boot makes contact, hoping that none of her fingers will be broken as a result.

"That's better," he says with a smile, cocking his head, "But I don't think you have fully learned your lesson."

Pulling the trigger yet again, I feel Nancy stiffen beside me as she looks away, unable to watch. I, however, cannot take my eyes from the sight of my lover being tortured in front of me.

"Stop!" I yell with no regard to the consequences, knowing that he is playing a dangerous game using this much voltage in one person in such a short period of time. "Stop it, you sick bastard!"

"Oh, you don't like this?" Chris asks after he finally removes his finger from the trigger. Smiling, he pulls it yet again, only letting up when Sara finally stops making any noise at all.

Watching her body desperately, I am relieved beyond words when she eventually starts to draw in shaky breaths.

"My God," Nancy mutters in horror, watching as blood starts to make its way slowly out of Sara's nose, trickling languidly to the floor.

"That should take care of you for a little while," Chris mutters, kicking Sara absently with his boot and watching as she doesn't move in response.

Turning back to us, he gestures to my handcuffs. "Take those and cuff your sister to the pipe rail over there," he states to me. "I think you know better than to argue unless you want to see the same thing happen to your precious sister as happened to your lover over there."

Hating myself for it, I barely hesitate as I take out my cuffs and do as he asks, willing to accept that he has the power in this situation right now. Reaching over, he squeezes the cuff on my sister's wrist tightly, ensuring that it is secure as she involuntarily cries out against the pain.

Pointing to Sara with his gun, he demands, "Get her cuffs and do the same to yourself".

Heading towards Sara, I am almost afraid to touch her as I kneel down next to her. Her eyes are open as she fights desperately to focus and remain conscious. Watching me, she struggles to move, barely able to even turn her head my way.

"Shh, babe," I soothe in a whisper, "Just stay put."

She narrows her eyes, obviously not liking my request to simply lie there - as if she could do anything else anyway.

"I'm fine, sweetheart, I promise," I offer her, knowing where her true concerns lie. I know that it must be killing her feeling like she is unable to protect us from Chris and whatever he has planned next.

"Hurry up!" Chris growls from his place next to Nancy.

Reaching down and taking Sara's cuffs from her belt, I let my hand linger a little longer than needed on her hip before moving across the room and cuffing my left hand to the pipe rail next to my sister.

Confirming that we are both securely restrained, Chris makes his way back to Sara's prone form. "Not that I have any concern about you putting up much of fight anytime soon, but I just wouldn't want you to feel left out."

Poking at Sara with his boot, he smiles again at the fact she can't move away from him. Reaching out to a floor lamp nearby, he pulls the cord swiftly from the base of the lamp.

Kicking Sara over so that she is lying on her stomach, he pulls her hands behinds her back, securing them tightly with the cord. Reaching out, he pulls Sara up by her shirt, leaning her in a sitting position against the wall. Heading falling to the side, she lets out a labored breath as blood continues to trickle from her nose. Using another cord, he secures her joined wrists to a fixture in the wall behind her.

Leaning down, he glances at the spikes from the stun gun still embedded in her shoulder. "I heard about your ordeal in the desert last year. Specifically, I was interested in the part where you pulled the stun gun spikes from your shoulder with your teeth to try to escape. Very clever, and I would be negligent to let history repeat itself, now wouldn't I?"

Reaching down as Sara glares at him with all the shreds of strength left in her, he takes hold of the spikes.

I catch my breath in surprise as, instead of pulling them out, he pushes them deeper into her shoulder. I hear Nancy curse beside me as Sara can only react by clenching her teeth in obvious pain.

Once the spikes are fully embedded in her shoulder and out of sight, Chris wipes the blood from his fingers and stands. Looking down at her in satisfaction, he sends her a wink. Immediately, my mind flashes back to the same perverse wink I saw him give the brunette at Nancy's house. What a different situation we all find ourselves in now.

Grabbing his keys from the counter, Chris looks over at Nancy and I. "Sorry to cut this short ladies, but I have some lose ends that need to be tied up. I trust that you will still be here when I return," he says with a derisive grin.

Walking up to Nancy, he forces a kiss from her, running his fingers languidly down her cheek, before making his way to the door.

"I'll miss you, babe," he says menacingly to her before shutting the door behind him.

Hearing his car roar to life, he pulls out moments later.

* * *

The instant Chris leaves, my sister is sobbing, body shaking with screams of anguish so violent that the metal handcuffs rattle against the pipe rail. I have never seen her this broken, this agonized, before. Closing my eyes for a moment as my heart clenches in pain for my little sister, I reach over to hold her as best I can with my free arm.

"I am so sorry, Catherine, so sorry…"she pleas, her words clearly expressing the anger and regret that is now threatening to consume her.

"Shhh," I tell her, "I am not mad, this isn't your fault." I try to reassure her that nothing that happened here, or is going to happen, rests on her shoulders.

Nancy continues to sob, and they only seem to have gotten louder at my words. "Of course it's my fault! All of this. Him hurting you, Cath. And Sara…my God…I don't know how you can ever forgive me…I pulled that trigger…"

Sara's face looks pained as she struggles to move even the slightest bit to let Nancy know that she's okay. Trying to speak, her frustration mounts as all that comes out is a tortured sounding moan. Her eyes shift to mine, pleading with me to tell Nancy what she cannot.

"Nancy, Sara doesn't blame you either. If she could, she would tell you that the only person that has to be sorry is Christian Dane. And she's right."

"She tried to tell me about him, Catherine, and I didn't listen…if I had only listened…the things I said to you guys…the hateful things…"

"Nance," I sooth, "there are endless things in my life that I would have done differently if I could have. You can't live your life like that. You do the best you can with what you have and what you know, and that's all you can do."

It's true, and if I am honest, I feel a hefty amount of guilt regarding this situation beginning to settle upon my own shoulders. Despite what I have just told Nancy, that the only person here to blame is Chris, I wonder if that's really true. For Nancy, I feel like it is. But for myself? Nancy was in love with Chris, taken advantage of by a man she thought loved her back. She was a victim. I, on the other hand, am Nancy's older sister. I am supposed to protect her, keep her far away from shit like this. Sara also tried to warn _me_, told me she didn't trust Chris, that there was something off about him. _I_ didn't listen. Nancy was blinded by love, what the hell was my excuse? I should have taken Sara more seriously, I should have at least made an _effort_ to explore her concerns. I basically should have done anything other than what I did – which was absolutely nothing at all.

Nancy is my baby sister, and I failed her in the worst of ways.

Nancy eventually calms down a bit after what seems like ages of tension ridden silence, her sobs quieting from what I imagine to be a result of sheer exhaustion. Because, I can clearly tell that she still is shouldering an unfathomable amount of guilt, and I don't kid myself into thinking that will be changing anytime soon. Her now haunted expression is the only clue I need of that. And, if I am honest, while her sobs have stopped, the eerie silence and somber look coming from her now are almost worse. My sister has always had an unshakable spirit, a genuine love for life that all but radiates from her to those around her. Now that has all but vanished, leaving her looking empty, hollow.

It scares me to death.

Sighing, I turn my focus from the emotional to the physical. Looking her over, I see that her temple is still bleeding from where Chris hit her with the gun, the blood on her face now streaked with her tears.

"Are you alright?" I ask her seriously, concerned that she is not suffering only emotionally, but physically as well.

Nodding, Nancy looks me over herself. "Are you?"

Doing my own mental check, I nod. "Yeah, just some cuts and bruises. And a killer headache." Nancy looks me in the eye for a few moments, likely trying to assess whether my headache is a sign of something more serious since Chris decided to take out a significant amount of his anger on my head.

Apparently satisfied with what she sees, Nancy looks away.

Silently, we both glance over towards Sara.

Seeing our joint gazes focused on her, Sara rolls her eyes, and I have to smile at the reaction that is so characteristically Sara despite everything that's going on.

Watching her struggle to speak yet again, I take pity on her. "I know, I know - you're fine, too."

I can't help but shake my head along with my sister as we both know that that is exactly the response we would have gotten from Sara had she been able to utter it herself.

Sara continues to narrow her eyes at us as she attempts to keep her head lifted.

Looking back at my sister, I get serious. "We need a plan before he gets back."

Nodding, we try to think of ways to overpower Chris, trick Chris, anything to get ourselves out of this situation in one piece. Looking back towards Sara to try and gauge her thoughts on our various ideas, I am startled to find her eyes closed, the brunette clearly unconscious.

"Shit," I mutter.

Following my gaze, Nancy stiffens beside me. "I am so sorry, Catherine."

I shake my head, "I do not want to hear you apologize for one more thing. This. Is. Not. Your. Fault." My tone clearly indicates that there is no room for argument.

Biting her tongue, Nancy nods, knowing the time for dealing with everything is later and the time for figuring a way out of this mess is now. We spend the next hour coming up with as many plans as we can, and then deciding from amongst the best ones.

When more hours pass, I feel exhaustion taking its toll and lean my head on my knees to close my eyes for a bit, waiting for Chris's return in order to set our final plan in motion.

* * *

NANCY POV

Watching my sister rest beside me, I sigh. There's nothing like silence to let the demons inside of you come out to play. All the dark thoughts about how all of this is your fault deciding to keep you company since no one else is around to do it.

Well, I might as well roll out the welcome mat for them, because I have a feeling they are here to stay.

"Hey…" I hear a mumble come from across the room.

Looking up in surprise, I find Sara's eyes locked on me.

"Stop….think..ing….th….those….thou…thoughts," she finally forces out, her body still obviously rebelling against her.

I let out an exhausted chuckle, her ability to read me even now making me feel for just a moment like perhaps, just maybe, Sara and I can somehow come out of this okay. I don't let my hopes get very high, however. I messed up with her, in so many ways.

"Cat…Cath. Is she…o…okay?"

Looking over at Catherine, I see that she is still sound asleep. Realizing how it must look to Sara, I nod quickly. "Yeah, Sar, she's fine. She's just sleeping."

Moving her head slightly so that it rests against the wall, Sara seems relieved.

"Are _you_ alright, Sara?" I look at her knowingly, "And don't give me any of this 'I'm fine' bullshit. You do not look fine at all."

Sara lets out a light chuckle, "Th…thanks."

I roll my eyes, but can't help smiling back at her all the same despite the situation. It's good to see Sara's spirit isn't broken like her body.

"I'll….b…be….fine," she states, daring me with her eyes to call her on her answer. I realize this is her way of avoiding saying that she is currently fine, while getting the same message across.

I shake my head, "Alright, but only because I can't go over there and figure out your condition for myself."

Sara smiles, and I'm sure she is genuinely elated by that same fact.

"H..how…are..you…hold…holding…up?"

I look at her, her expression clearly indicating that her question covers more than just how I am holding up physically.

"I really don't know," I tell her honestly.

She closes her eyes at my response, and when she opens them I see the genuine concern she has for me.

"I…I'm…so..sorry..that…I was…ri…right," she states, "I..didn…didn't…wa…want to…to be….right." At the end of her statement she lets out a cough, making me nervous that she shouldn't be trying to talk this much right now.

"I know," I state. "I didn't want you to be right either." Meeting her eyes, I add, "I think that was why I got so angry with you. I think somewhere deep down, I was nervous that you could be right. That you are the best judge of character that I know, and that if you were nervous about Chris, then perhaps I should be as well. And I didn't want to face that idea, I wasn't _ready_ to face that idea."

I feel tears start to make their way to my eyes and I angrily brush them away. "I wanted so _badly_ for this to finally be it for me. Finally be the end of my long line of failed relationships."

Sara looks at me with warmth in her gaze, "I…know."

Looking over at her, I rest my own head against the wall behind me. "Are we ever going to be okay again? Me and you?" I ask in barely a whisper.

Closing her eyes briefly under the weight of my question, Sara's expression is somewhat more guarded when she opens her eyes again. But, underneath it, I also see warmth. "I…ho…hope…so."

Realizing that that is about as accurate an answer I can provide as well, I look at her and sigh, "I hope so, too, Sara."

Understanding that, although I want nothing more than to spend this time talking with Sara about other things, I need to use this time to fill her in on our plan. After all, it has been hours, and Chris is bound to return shortly.

* * *

NANCY POV

"And how are my favorite ladies?" Chris asks, as he steps back into the cabin, jolting me violently from my thoughts. The outside world is dark, the light of day long gone.

Part of me wonders where he has been all this time, most of me doesn't care.

"I think you may have killed Sara," I state in a rush, letting the right amount of panic enter my voice. Catherine for her part is looking the perfect mix of terrified and in shock.

Looking over at the brunette's slumped form, Chris makes his way over and gives her a swift kick to the side. I grimace as Sara doesn't move, but I have no doubt she felt every jolt of pain from that blow.

Raising his brow, he turns to me.

"She's still breathing," he mutters, seeming entirely unconcerned.

I nod, "Yeah, but she has stopped a couple times while you were gone before starting back up again. I think you may have sent her heart into arrhythmia. I'm worried that if it gets off rhythm again it may not be able to get itself back on track and she'll code. Unless that's part of your plan," I state with a challenging look.

I know for a fact it's not, Chris is much too perverse to want someone like Sara to get off so easily.

"And what exactly do you propose?" he asks me warily.

"You uncuff me from this wall and recuff me next to her so I can keep an eye on her and step in if anything happens." It's a simple proposition, with limited risk to him. I have all my stock and bets invested in him agreeing.

Eyeing me warily, he shrugs. "Fine, just know that if you try anything I'll kill her or your sister. I'll even make you pick."

Feeling my heart racing, I nod. "Okay."

Reaching out, he uncuffs me, dragging me next to Sara to cuff me to the wall next to her. Sighing in relief, my eyes meet Catherine's briefly before returning them to Chris.

"Thank you," I state, trying desperately to make the words sound genuine.

Laughing, Chris gives me a nauseating kiss on the lips.

"Anything for you, honey. After all, we all wouldn't have this opportunity to spend such quality time together if it weren't for you, now would we? _I_ should be the one thanking _you_."

Feeling the weight of his words crushing my fragile grip on sanity, I focus instead on Sara's form, which is now within my reach. Seeing her up close, I feel my concern for her grow. She absolutely looks like shit.

"And what about you, Catherine?" Chris turns, taunting my sister, "Aren't you concerned about Sidle over there as well?"

Lifting her glazed eyes towards Chris, Catherine's voice sounds dead, "If you killed her, I will kill you."

Chris laughs, "I'm sure you will, whore."

Catherine's eyes smolder at the insult, but she wisely remains still.

Grabbing his keys yet again, he looks at Catherine. "I have to head out one last time before work gets suspicious. They were really sad to hear that Nancy has come down with the flu and won't be able to make it in. Oh, and your lab was quite pleased to hear that you and Sara had finally decided to take some days off. After all, they have been sensing you were getting close to burnout on your current case and are quite eager to have you return 'well rested and with fresh perspective'." He sends her a wink, "They wish you happy sailing on Lake Mead."

Smiling that we now know no one will be looking for us for quite some time, he approaches Catherine.

"Looks like you are all going to be my little play things for awhile. Especially because after my shift tonight, I will be handing in my resignation. Finally open that bogus clinic in east Vegas I have been so careful to mention casually over the past couple weeks to select colleagues. No one will be missing any of us for quite awhile. So, Catherine, why don't you think of some games we can all play together. And I do so truly hope they involve your personal 'skills'…you know, when you used to strip for a living and make men beg you to fuck them?"

Leaning over, he uses his tongue to lick his way down my sister's neck, and I feel Sara stiffen beside me as Catherine lets out a small groan of disgust, unable to pull away from him.

Keeping my free hand firmly on the back of her belt to communicate my firm message of staying put to the brunette, I watch as Chris smiles at Catherine and reaches to run his fingers across her breasts.

Deciding against it at the last minute, he runs his hand down her side instead before pulling away, "I guess we'll save some of that for later…" Winking, he gives us all one last look before turning and heading out the door.

When the sound of his car pulling away is clear, Sara's eyes shoot open. Moving as best she can, which is minimal at best, she struggles frantically to free herself.

"Sara!" I yell, trying awkwardly to hold her in place with my free arm, "Calm down!"

Her eyes are focused solely on Catherine, the rage in them palpable.

"I'm….go..going…to..fu…fucking…rip..h…him..a…apa…apart," she seethes, angrily jerking her head back into the wall as she struggles desperately against her bonds.

Catherine shakes her head, "Sara, honey, I'm fine. Just relax for me, okay?" It's obvious that Catherine is not fine, and Sara can see that as clearly as anyone. "Please, Sar, what I need right now is for you to relax. Please, sweetheart."

Catherine's pleading voice, tainted with desperation, strikes at something inside of Sara, and she slowly starts to lose some of her rigidity as her struggles diminish.

"Ca….Catherine…" she states, her voice anguished.

"I know, Sara. And I know you would do anything in your power to protect me. Just like I would for you. Right now, though, we need to do our best to work together to get the hell out of here, okay? And we can't let our emotions get in the way of that. We're only going to get one shot at this."

Working her head into a reluctant nod, Sara finally stops struggling to get free.

"Alright," I state, trying to get ourselves all back on track. "I need to get Sara's hands free."

When we realized that Sara was the only one not cuffed, Catherine and I planned to get myself moved towards her under the false pretenses that we were concerned about Sara coding out so that I could release her. Looking at Sara now, I'm not so sure those pretenses were all that false. I don't even want to discuss my doubts that even if I get Sara's hands free, there is no way the brunette is going to be able to walk around and find something to get me and Catherine uncuffed. But hell, one step at a time, right?

"The…there's…a…a…poc..pocketknife…in..my…front…pock…pocket," Sara tells me.

Smiling at the turn of fortune, I reach with my free hand into her jeans pocket as she lets out another cough. Pulling it free, I use both hands to open the blade. Holding the blade in my left hand, I move it towards the cord binding her wrists.

I realize now that Sara is trembling, this being emphasized by the way her hands are shaking as I try to place the blade along the cord without cutting her. Seeing Catherine grow concerned at my hesitance, I try to cover the fact that Sara's body is still being wracked with convulsions from her ordeal with the stun gun that happened hours ago. It would crush my sister to know that Sara has likely been suffering this entire time and will most likely continue to suffer for awhile.

"This is awkward left-handed," I offer as explanation for my hesitance, and Sara sends me a grateful look for not calling her on her trembling. "Sorry if I knick you."

Working at the cord, I thankfully make my way through with minimal damage to Sara. With her hands now free, Sara attempts to move her arms. Her progress is slow, and painful to watch. The effort and frustration are clearly displayed across Sara's features as she tries to get her body to cooperate so that she can be of assistance to me and Catherine.

"Take your time, Sara," I offer her. "Chris is headed into work for awhile, we have hours."

Sara shakes her head, knowing as well as I do that this is our only shot to get free and to assume anything could get us all killed.

"My….pock…pocket…knife…," she says, trying to hold out her hand for the knife. Taking her hand, I place the knife in it for her. Slowly, she gets out the thinnest tool in it and directs it towards the cuff on the wall. With a trembling hand, she works at triggering the cuff release.

Meeting my sister's eyes across the room, she mouths 'Is she okay?' to me.

I shake my head no, not wanting to alarm my sister, but knowing that she deserves to be clued in on the reality of the situation. We need to know where we all stand so that we have all the information we need to factor into our escape.

Closing her eyes briefly, she nods her head just as I feel the cuff on the wall release itself. My arm now free, I quickly cuff the free end around my wrist as well to keep it from dangling and getting in the way. Reaching over and giving Sara a quick kiss on the side of the head as she leans against the wall in exhaustion, I take the pocket knife from her shaking hand and make my way to my sister.

After getting Catherine freed as well, we both turn to Sara.

"Wh…what?" Sara asks, looking at our joined expressions.

Making her way towards Sara, Catherine kneels down in front of her. "We need to get out of here, which means Nancy and I are going to take turns carrying you."

I can see Sara clench her jaw in response, hating to be the burden that she now finds herself being. "I'll…ju…just…slow….y..you…down….ju…just…leave..-" Sara starts, but Catherine places her fingers over Sara's lips.

"I am not leaving you here, and that's the end of that. Come on." Reaching under Sara's arms, Catherine lifts Sara to her feet. It's obvious that there is no way Sara would be able to walk on her own right now, since her legs are clearly shaking and buckling under her own weight.

Sweeping Sara's legs up, Catherine has her held in her arms as I open the front door and look cautiously out into the night.

"The Tahoe is parked about a mile up the road, although I'm sure Chris has disabled it by now we should check just in case."

Nodding, I head in that direction, hearing Catherine following close behind.

Approaching the Tahoe, it's clear to see that the tires have all been shot out, and the smell of gas clues us in that the gas tank met a similar fate.

"Wat…water…..trunk," Sara mutters, and Catherine nods.

"Grab the water bottles from the trunk, Nance, and anything else we can find that may be useful."

After gathering up some supplies, we decide to head towards the interstate, while keeping a ways off the dirt path incase Chris heads back to the cabin anytime soon.

We mostly walk in silence, and I try to remain calm despite my rising fears of what will happen when Chris returns to an empty cabin.

Because, inexplicitly, I know deep down inside, that we have not seen the last of Christian Dane.

* * *

**AN: Thanks for reading. Thoughts and comments, as always, are welcome.**


	20. Chapter 20

**AN: Thank you all for your kind and supportive words – I truly cannot express how much they are appreciated. My motivation and inspiration for this story throughout this process has been because of all of you. **

**Hope everyone is doing well and that you enjoy this next chapter. I had originally had it split into two separate chapters – but I figured I would just post it as one large one since updates have been a bit slower than I would like. **

**Hope you enjoy.**

**Take care.**

* * *

CATHERINE POV

The fact that Sara is shaking in my arms is putting me on edge, wishing that we were somewhere able to give her adequate medical care. She's been quiet as we've walked, not complaining about being in pain or anything, but I know Sara, and I know that if she were in pain it would remain unspoken.

Sara seems definitively more concerned about me than about herself, though, her eyes narrowed as they keep glancing from the cut on my cheek to the bruises forming on my neck.

"I'm fine, Sar," I offer quietly, keeping my voice down so that this conversation remains private between the two of us as Nancy walks up ahead. "I promise."

She shakes her head slowly, her jaw clenching down tightly. "It never …should …have hap…happened. I should …should have…gone in with…you inst…instead of going…around back," her own voice is quiet as she forces the words out.

She lets out a cough, her body tensing against mine.

"Shh, babe. Nothing he did is your fault. Nothing he did is any of our faults." I let out a breath, my eyes meeting hers to let her see my serious but sympathetic expression. "And perhaps someday we'll actually believe that," I finish with a sigh, knowing our individual guilt trips are going to take more than a couple hours hiking through the desert to get over.

She looks at me a moment, her eyes dark in the moonlight. "He tou…touches y…you again…and he's…dead." Her words are still quiet, they aren't yelled or even particularly angry. They are more resigned than that. They are spoken in the tone of a person stating a simple fact. A simple promise.

I tighten my hold on her, not knowing how I would ever handle being in a situation like this without her here with me. It's absolutely dumbfounding to me how safe and protected I can feel by a woman who can't walk, can barely speak, and is shaking so badly that I can hear her teeth chattering. But, somehow, Sara manages to make me feel like nothing harmful in this world can touch me so long as she is with me.

"I love you," I tell her, knowing it alone captures everything I want to tell her.

Her expression lets me know she understands, a shaking hand reaching up to gently travel across my temple. "I lo…love you t-"

Sara turns away, her words cut off and her hand leaving my face as she coughs harshly, her eyes clenching against the hacking coughs forcing their way from her chest.

Grimacing, I turn to my sister who has stopped ahead of us.

"Should she be coughing like this?"

Nancy waits for me to catch up to begin walking alongside me, looking down at Sara with furrowed brows. "To be honest, I have no idea. They didn't exactly cover getting the shit blasted out of you with a stun gun in medical school," she states.

Sara, who is finally catching her breath, lets out a snort, which quickly evolves into another cough. "Shit…Sor…sorry," she mumbles.

Nancy sighs. "Stop apologizing, Sara. I'm the one…."

Nancy trials off, although we all know where her statement was headed. "Why don't we stop for water, and I'll give Sara a once over?"

I can't help but smile as Sara groans in my arms. It's usually frustrating watching her constantly fight being taken care of, but right now it's strangely reassuring.

"Sounds good to me," I state, setting Sara down gently so that she is propped up against a rock. Grabbing some water, I drink just enough to keep hydrated, and help Sara drink some as well.

Kneeling next to the brunette, Nancy hands me a flashlight. "I may ask you to use this if I need you to. I'd rather not risk the light unless there is something I need to see better."

Sara shakes her head adamantly, "Don't…risk..i..it."

"I'll make that call, Sara," Nancy states just as adamantly.

Taking Sara's hands in her own, Nancy asks Sara to squeeze as hard as she can. Sighing, she asks Sara to follow her finger with her eyes, taking a close look at her pupils while using the nearly full moon as her light source.

"You mind if I lay you down?" Nancy asks, already starting to clear a spot for her.

"I..mind..ab..about…the whole..damn..th..thing," Sara mutters.

Shaking her head, Nancy snorts. "I bet you do."

Gently, Nancy lays Sara down on her back. "I am going to lift your shirt a bit to make sure you don't have any signs of internal bleeding," Nancy states, hesitating to push Sara's already strained boundaries too far.

Waiting for Sara's nod, Nancy lifts her shirt gently. Placing her hands on Sara's stomach, Sara turns her head away from my sister as she begins to press down.

"You okay?" Nancy asks, noting Sara's turned head.

"Fi…ne."

It's only one word, but the tone with which it was uttered is enough to set Nancy and I both on edge. There is something about this moment that is bothering Sara more than she is letting on. Vaguely, I wonder if it is the darkness that has her so uncomfortable, her inability to watch Nancy and see clearly what she is doing.

Deciding to simply get the process over with, Nancy continues probing Sara's abdomen, pulling her hand away when Sara takes in a breath as she reaches her side. Gently returning her hand to Sara's ribs, she touches gently.

"This is where he kicked you, isn't it?" Nancy's voice is hard, and I am once again reminded it is going to take a lot of time for her to get past everything that has transpired with Chris.

Sara doesn't answer, but she doesn't have to.

"Well, nothing feels broken," Nancy states, "Although it will likely be sore for awhile."

Nodding, Sara starts attempting to sit up, and I watch as Nancy reaches out and gently holds her down.

Immediately, as if some switch deep inside is triggered, Sara starts to struggle violently against my sister, which in return causes my sister to hold her down tighter.

"Sara, stop!" Nancy begs, "I'm not going to hurt you…but you need to stay still…Sara!"

Sara lets out a moan as she continues to struggle with all her strength, feet kicking ineffectively at the desert sand.

Reaching out, I quickly pull my sister up and away from Sara.

"Don't touch her, Nance," I state firmly as my sister looks at me in confusion.

Sara, using the rock beside her as leverage, has finally pulled herself into a haphazard sitting position. Her breathing is heavy and her right arm is hanging weakly at her side. Closing her eyes for a moment, she slowly opens them again and fixes them on my sister.

"I'm…sor..sorry…Nancy," she gets out, obviously trying to hold her trembling body still.

Seeing my sister's expression, Sara turns her eyes away, ashamed.

The awkward silence grows thick, each of us at a loss for what to do, when Sara's quiet voice finally breaks the stillness. "I…didn't like…being..held…do…down. Not…when…I knew…I..didn't have…the….strength…to..ov..overpower….you..if..I ne..needed…to."

Realizing that Sara is offering a lot by giving her that admission, Nancy nods her head in understanding and doesn't press for further explanation.

"Okay. I'll remember that," is all she says, not pushing an issue that Sara is clearly uncomfortable addressing.

Gesturing to Sara's limp right arm, Nancy kneels down to Sara's level. "You mind if I take one look at that and then we call a truce?"

Nodding that it's alright, Sara allows Nancy to approach her. Probing with her fingers gently where Chris pushed the stun gun spikes into her shoulder, Nancy grimaces when Sara's breath hitches and her body involuntarily jerks away.

"I can't imagine how bad those things hurt jammed in there, but I think it's safer to leave them in right now than risk the tissue damage and blood loss of pulling them out. I suspect one may be sitting on your nerve, though, so you should really try to use your arm as little as possible to minimize the risk of nerve damage."

Nodding, Sara begins attempting to pull herself to her feet. Reaching down to help her, Nancy keeps her arm around her when it is obvious that Sara isn't quite able to stand on her own yet.

I hate seeing Sara like this, and I know it is killing the independent woman that I love to be so dependent on other people for such simple things like standing and walking. For someone who hates being weak or needy, this is like a living nightmare.

"You mind if I carry you for the next couple miles? It's kinda chilly out here and I could use the body heat…" my sister states. I silently bless her heart at her ability to read Sara's frustration at being helpless and giving her even the slightest feeling of usefulness.

Sara doesn't respond for a moment, her hesitance clear to read even though her dark features are not.

Immediately, I am reminded of all the tension and confrontation that has been brewing between Sara and my sister for quite some time now, the strain that essentially brought their relationship to a tumultuous end not so long ago. Today is probably the first time they find themselves on common ground in a matter of months. I know Sara doesn't give her trust easily to anyone, and I know that once she makes the decision to give it to someone, if that trust is broken, there is no getting it back. Ever.

Eventually, Sara nods, her expression guarded and her body tense where Nancy's arm remains supporting her. I can only hope that someday Sara decides to make an exception for my sister. That she not only lets my sister back into her life, but someday trusts her enough to let her back into her life as her true friend and confidant.

Nancy's gaze remains locked with Sara's for a moment, the subtext of the situation not lost on her. Finally breaking her gaze, Nancy eventually nods, leaning down to gently lift Sara into her arms.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, I have to smile at the odd pair the two make.

"I guess…I...shouldn't have….ea…eaten…so…much…of…that ch..cheesecake…the…other..d…day," Sara mutters dryly, her head coming to rest tentatively on my sister's shoulder after a few moments of silent walking.

Nancy snorts, the tension finally somewhat broken.

Following after them, I know from my personal experience of carrying Sara that if anything, I need to have a discussion with her about proper eating habits. There is no way a person as tall as she is should be as light as she is. Something tells me the calories she burns on her habitual morning runs is far outweighing the amount she takes in during a day. Coffee and half-assed meals consisting of granola bars from the lab vending machine are simply not cutting it.

Continuing to walk in silence, the miles and hours languidly blur together. Desert sands bleeds into more desert sand, cacti and rocks the only fixtures to break up the monotony.

After we travel about 5 additional miles, I let out a sigh. "Do you guys think we should set up camp for the night?"

Ideally, I would love to keep walking, but I estimate that we still have about 9 miles until we reach the next road, and about another 14 miles until we reach the interstate after that. I am exhausted, and exhaustion can lead to sloppy mistakes. I don't want to wake up in the morning and realize we have trekked hours in the wrong direction because we were simply too tired to notice.

Seeing a rock outcropping about 100 yards ahead, Nancy nods, gesturing towards it with her head. "Looks like a good place to get some shelter."

Reaching it, we head around the back of the formation to place ourselves out of sight. Nancy gently sets Sara down while I deposit my fatigued body next to hers. Nancy, sitting on Sara's other side, lets out an exhausted sigh.

Reaching out, Sara puts her arm around me and draws me in close. Feeling the warmth of her body, I am grateful for the gesture. Plus, having her arm around me makes me feel much safer spending the night in this barren desert. Closing my eyes, I try to allow sleep to come, all the while knowing that it will take some time to let the adrenaline wear off enough for my system to slow down.

Hearing shuffling beside me, I open my eyes to find Sara watching Nancy lay her head down on the rocky ground with concern. Closing her eyes briefly, Sara seems to collect herself and come to some internal decision. Taking a deep breath, Sara whispers Nancy's name.

Getting her attention, Nancy looks up at Sara, brows furrowed. "Yeah?"

"You're welcome to lay with me, if you want." Sara's voice is a curious mix of emotion, but I can clearly sense the warmth and care it holds amongst the other, somewhat more complicated, emotions. When Nancy closes her eyes under the weight of the offer, I know that she could sense them, too.

Something tells me that Nancy could use some comfort right now just as much as me, and, despite everything that has happened between them, Sara doesn't have it in her not to offer it to her.

Nancy slowly nods, her eyes thanking Sara in ways that words cannot. Leaning over, she places her herself against Sara's side, her head careful to avoid her injured shoulder as it comes to rest below her collar bone.

Watching as Sara lets out a sigh and closes her eyes, I follow suit, keeping my grip on the brunette tight and hoping that we meet each other in our dreams at a place much better than this one.

* * *

CATHERINE POV

Waking up as the first rays of light penetrate the horizon, I blink into the desert sun. Looking around, I see that Nancy is leaning against the rock wall, clearly still asleep. Scanning the landscape, I begin to worry when I realize that Sara isn't anywhere in sight.

"Psst," I hear above me, and I instantly turn my gaze to the top of the outcropping. Sitting with her legs dangling off the edge is none other than Sara herself. Sending me a smile, she gestures for me to come up and join her.

Hiking around and finding the best path up, I take a seat next to the brunette so close that our legs are touching.

"You made it all the way up here by yourself?" I ask, looking her over to try to assess her current condition.

"Yeah," she says, and her voice is hoarse, but stronger than it was yesterday. "I had..to pee," she states with a shrug. It's clear that it's still a bit of an effort for her to talk, but things are definitely improving.

Looking around with exaggerated caution, she sees what I am suggesting and smirks. "Yup…right where…you….are sitting…actually."

Smacking her on the arm, I roll my eyes at her. "How are you feeling?" I ask, and her face grows serious.

Looking at me, her hazel eyes glisten in the morning light.

"Be honest with me, Sara."

Looking off into the horizon now, she shrugs. "I've…been better. But," she states with seriousness, "I've…also been…much worse."

Nodding, and hating that I probably don't have the slightest idea just how deep the truth to her statement runs, I watch the horizon with her.

"I, uh…I keep getting…bloody noses," she offers, still looking off into the distance. I smile, not at the words, but at the admission. Sara knows me, and she knows that giving me an answer that is slightly troubling but honest will cause me less angst then a vague answer that is meant to reassure me.

Placing my hand on her leg, I rest my head on her shoulder. "Okay," I simply state, knowing that she doesn't want me to make a big deal out of it since she did me the favor of sharing the information when she would rather not have.

Moving my hand from Sara's leg to run my fingers through her hair, I close my eyes and pretend that Sara and I are simply spending the morning together watching the sunrise after a nice hike in the desert. It's much better than the reality of the situation, that we are out here because we are running for our lives.

"Good morning," I hear from down below, letting me know that Nancy is awake and has spotted us. Opening my eyes, I send my sister a wave of greeting.

"I am going to go piss before my bladder explodes," Nancy offers up, and Sara snickers beside me as she shakes her head at my sister.

"Charming," I mutter, watching as Nancy shuffles off towards some rocks.

Looking over at me after a moment of silence, Sara furrows her brows in thought. "Cath…do you think…Nancy…is going to be..alright…after all this?"

I sigh, having had the same thought mulling through my head all night.

"She has us," I state simply.

I can only hope that our love and support will be enough to see Nancy through this ordeal, no matter what the ultimate outcome ends up being.

Nodding, Sara turns her gaze back out into the desert. "Yes…she does."

Patting her on the leg, I get to my feet. Something tells me it's best to get a jump start on the day when running from a madman with a gun.

"Can you stand?" I ask Sara, wanting to be of help without stepping on her pride.

"Yeah," she says, slowly getting to her feet. She looks unsteady at best but she is bound and determined to fight through her current limitations.

Starting to make our way down, I keep my eye on Sara as she proceeds on shaky legs. Her right leg seems especially weak, and I suspect it has to do with the effect of the stun gun on her previously injured musculature. Finally making it down, Sara leans heavily against the rock wall as we watch Nancy make her return.

My sister smiles warmly at Sara as she reaches our side, "Nice to see you up and about. You feeling okay?"

Nodding, Sara sends her a quick smile and a "Yup." It's obvious that Sara wants nothing more than to stop being the center of concern for the Willow's women.

Deciding to grant her wish, I gather the supplies we had laid out and gesture to the open desert. "Shall we?"

Both my companions nod, and Sara doesn't protest when I wrap my arm supportively around her waist. I think she is willing to accept the assistance for no other reason than the reality that she would only slow us down trying to walk under her own power. Hell, I'll take whatever I can get for whatever reason I get it.

The sun is starting to rise in the sky, bringing the oppressive temperature of the day with it. I figure we have some awfully grueling miles ahead of us, but I feel confident that I have the ideal people at my side to be making the journey with.

We have traveled about five miles before Sara starts coughing. At first, no one says anything and we keep pushing on, not wanting to draw unwanted attention to her. We can tell that Sara feels burdensome enough as it is without us commenting on every concerning noise she makes.

Then, without warning, Sara doubles over as her coughs become more violent, drawing us both to a halt.

Reaching down, I rub her back gently as her body continues to be wracked with coughs.

Finally, she straightens up, her hand still over her face.

"Uh, Sar…" I hear my sister mutter.

"I know," Sara mumbles, turning pointedly away from me.

Shadowing her movement with my body, I all but force Sara to face me.

I shake my head in a mixture of sadness and frustration when I see the blood trickling from between Sara's fingers as she keeps her hand clamped over her nose.

I know Sara hates having me see her like this, but these are the times when I want to be there for her the most.

"Come here, babe," I say gently as I wrap my arm around her thin waist and pull her against me.

Reaching up, I gently tilt her head back while supporting her body against mine so that her weakened legs can support the awkward angle.

"Keep your head back," I instruct, using my hand to join hers in keeping pressure on her nose.

Standing like this for a couple of minutes, Sara finally breaks the moment as she slowly pulls her hand away, taking mine with it.

"I think…it stopped," she offers, gently touching her fingers to her nose to check. Pulling them away with no fresh blood, she nods.

"Here," Nancy offers, holding out a water bottle to Sara. Taking a tiny amount of water and wetting her sleeve, Sara quickly cleans her face of the remaining blood.

Tossing the bottle back to Nancy, she offers a quiet, "Thanks."

Nancy meets my eyes, and it's clear that neither of us knows the proper action to take at this moment.

It's obvious that Sara isn't doing so hot right now, but we don't want to exacerbate the situation and say something that would cause Sara to emotionally pull away from us, especially when there is nothing that can really be said or done about the situation anyway.

With a reluctant sigh, my sister gestures ahead of us, "Come on, let's keep going for awhile before the temperature gets any hotter."

Sara doesn't say a word, simply moving forward with me as I return my arm to her waist. It's obvious that she isn't in the mood to talk, instead gratefully accepting Nancy's tactic of avoiding the elephant in the desert.

* * *

Setting myself down on a rock with a sigh, I take a long drink of water. Without a word, Nancy hands me a granola bar as Sara heads off for a bathroom break.

Chewing her own bar slowly, Nancy's expression looks like she is contemplating quantum physics and is stuck at what amount of centrifugal force to enter into the equation in order to discern the speed at which object A will intercept object B.

Catching my gaze directed at her, Nancy lets out a sigh and gestures to where Sara disappeared. "I'm worried about her."

Nodding, I finish my granola bar and tear at the wrapper.

"And she's worried about you," I tell Nancy honestly.

Looking at me in confusion, she assesses my expression. Eventually looking away, Nancy kicks absently at the dirt. "My issues are merely emotional, nothing pressing."

I watch her move her foot in and out of the desert sand. "Sometimes those are the worst issues to have," I say. "And I think Sara understands that more than most."

Furrowing her brow, Nancy nods, but doesn't say anything right away. "I think it's the guilt," Nancy eventually says. "I think it's the guilt that is going to get to me."

Finally looking up at me, she shakes her head in frustration as she wipes the gathering moisture from her eyes.

Taking her hand in mine, I give it a squeeze. "I know. And I also know that no matter how many times and how many ways me or Sara tell you that you have nothing to be sorry for you will continue to beat yourself up about all of this. It's something that, despite the God's honest truth that we don't blame you for a thing, you need to come to terms with for yourself. And, unfortunately, that's going to take some time."

Nodding, Nancy squeezes my hand in return.

"And Nance," I say, waiting for her to look at me before I continue, "It's also okay to be angry."

Sending me a smile, Nancy's eyes glisten. "Oh, I don't see that being a problem any time soon. I'm plenty angry already, and I think with every fucking piece of this fucking desert sand that gets shoved into another crevice of my body the anger just multiplies upon itself."

Laughing, I reach out and ruffle her hair, glad to see a bit of the tenacity of my little sister returning.

Our gazes are drawn to the distance as Sara's form returns into view. Silently watching as she slowly makes her way through the desert landscape, I place my hand on my sister's knee. "We're all going to be just fine."

* * *

NANCY POV

"Fuck!"

It's our second night in the desert, having walked far enough today to reach the interstate by mid-day tomorrow as long as things continue to go as planned, when I am awoken from a fitful sleep when I hear cursing beside me. Rolling over, I see Sara sitting up a couple feet away, her form silhouetted by the moonlight as she leans against a large rock.

"Sara?" I ask in a whisper, not wanting to wake Catherine.

Looking over at me, Sara closes her eyes, "Sorry, Nancy, I didn't… mean…to wake you."

Pushing myself up and over so that I am sitting next to her, I take notice of her pale complexion.

"I was awake," I lie. "What's wrong?"

Sara hesitates, obviously not having planned for someone to be awake with her. "Nothing…I, uh…" Trailing off, it's clear that Sara wants nothing more than to disappear into a hole in the desert sand.

"Sara."

It's one word, but it carries the weight of a thousand.

Assessing me, and perhaps realizing the quickest way to get rid of me is to give me what I want, Sara clenches her jaw. "I hit…my shoulder while…I was sleeping."

Taking in her pallor and the thin sheen of sweat covering her skin, I am beginning to suspect what is really wrong.

"And one of them moved, didn't they?"

Looking at me, Sara doesn't respond.

"The spikes, one of them moved when you hit your shoulder and has now probably cut into a nerve."

Rolling her eyes at me, Sara pushes herself into a more comfortable sitting position.

Getting sight of her left hand, I clearly see blood glistening off her fingers.

A lot of it.

I groan, immediately knowing just where that blood came from.

"Jesus, Sara, tell me you weren't trying to pull them out," I nearly hiss at her, trying to keep my voice down.

Sara only continues to look at me, her dark features hiding her emotions well.

Shaking my head, I hope my expression mirrors the level of empathy that I feel. "I'm sorry, Sara, I can't imagine how painful it must be, but you really need to leave them in."

"I don't have a choice," she says, her eyes finally breaking her intense gaze. "They have barbs…on them…that keep them from being…able to be pulled back out. The…only direction they…can move is forward."

Cringing at the thought, I shake my head in anger. "Damn it, Sara, I wish there was something I could do to help you. I hate just watching you suffer like this."

Letting out a snort, Sara leans her head back on the rock behind her. "If this is suffering, I hate to…imagine what people…with real problems must be going through."

"I'd say what you have gone through these past days qualifies as real problems, Sara."

"So would…what you've gone through," she counters, sending me a pointed look.

I shrug, "You're right," I tell her. "I have no problem admitting when I am in pain – physical or emotional. I feel hurt, betrayed, angry, guilty, and some part of me is still back in denial. Part of me feels like this is some twisted nightmare that I'll wake up from." I shake my head in disgust, "My life wasn't supposed to fucking turn into this. So yeah, I'm in pain right now."

Meeting her eyes square on, I don't look away, letting her read all my emotions for herself as I make no effort to smother them.

"Your life isn't defined…by this," Sara tells me, her own eyes a bit more readable than usual. "_You_ are not defined by this."

"Kind of easy for you to say," I tell her, feeling like her sentiment is a bit idealistic given the reality of the situation.

Sara turns her head away from me as if she has been slapped. Clenching her jaw, she forces her smoldering gaze back to mine. "No, it's not. I spent…most of my life trying to convince…myself I wasn't defined by the…perversion and abuse that ran rampant…through my household. That I…wasn't the poor 'victim Sara'…that I was…just Sara." Taking a breath, she waits for my eyes to meet hers. "It's the hardest thing…you will…have to do, Nancy, but you… have to find a way to do it…or it will destroy you. You are better… than this shit Chris Dane…forced into your life."

Taking a moment, I consider Sara's words, realizing that she would understand more than anyone else I know about trying to step out of what life hands you and into what you make of life. I also realize that this is the first time Sara has willingly alluded to the abuse in her past to me. The brunette usually keeps her cards close to her chest, and I am grateful for her willingness to reference the difficult topic in order to help me through my own situation.

Reaching out and taking her hand tentatively in mine, I entwine my fingers with her own.

Moments like these do not need words.

Laying my head back onto the rock we both are leaning against, I look up and watch the stars. I know sleep will not come to either of us, but, as I stare up at the cosmos and feel Sara's hand tighten its grip on mine, for the first time in a long while I find myself not feeling quite so alone.

* * *

NANCY POV

One hour. We were about one hour from the interstate, one hour from our freedom when all hell broke loose. The whole morning we had trekked through the blazing desert, seeing our escape getting closer and closer. There was no warning, no sign that we had been being followed. Nothing.

Then, out of nowhere, there was a quiet shuffle and the deafening click of a gun being cocked.

Those weren't the sounds I expected to accompany my end.

Turning, I felt my eyes widen in horror as I was met with the sight of my sister with a gun pointed directly into her temple and Chris standing next to her with the most self-satisfied grin pervading his features. And that is where I find myself, shell shocked with a sinking feeling dragging my hopes down to my knees.

I am literally paralyzed with fear.

Sara's eyes dart anxiously between the gun, Chris, and myself, likely trying to gauge distances and reaction times – calculating all of her options and all of the possible consequences.

As for me, I simply raise my hands in the air, finally pulling myself out of my paralysis enough to walk slowly towards my sister. "This is between us, Chris, just leave them out of it and you can do whatever you want with me."

Chris snickers, "Right. You'd like that, wouldn't you? Leave them out of it all instead of having to look at their faces every day from now on with guilt and remorse. Every day being reminded of what you put them through when you welcomed this monster into their lives."

Without warning, he kicks Catherine's legs out from under her, sending her painfully to the ground.

Pointing to a place on her arm which is now scraped and bleeding, he sneers at me, "Every time you look at the bruises, the scars, on the ones you love, you'll remember how you invited the wolf to their doorstep."

Turning to Sara, he sends her a smile, "Even when they tried to warn you about me and my true nature. But no, you couldn't be bothered with their concerns, could you? Willing to choose a good fuck over a good friend, right?"

Sara glares at him, but her attention is clearly directed towards assessing whether Catherine is okay.

"Nice to know the truth of how expendable you are, isn't it, Sara? I mean, really, you had to know you would always come second to family. Which, by the way, when push came to shove for Nancy, included _me_ - but not you. Hell, even I was shocked at that."

Finally directing her gaze up to Chris, Sara furrows her brow, "Are you trying…to psycho-screw me or something? Cause quite honestly…just get to…your fucking point."

"Fine," Chris states with a shrug, using his boot to push Catherine's body harder into the desert sand. "Is this point clear enough for you?"

Clenching her fists and moving forward, Sara's expression is murderous. "Let her go."

"Now, now," Chris scolds, "I've been watching you ladies for quite some time, and I know for a fact that you aren't getting around all that well right now. We both know I'd have 27 bullets in her pretty little head by the time you reached me."

Moving carefully and coming to a stop about 30 feet from him, Sara shakes her head. "What do…you want, Chris? Really, what is it you hope to…get out of this?"

Shrugging, Chris finally takes his foot off of Catherine and moves closer to the brunette. "I don't know, to be honest. The way I see it, I have to kill you all regardless, and I'm just looking to get some kicks before we have to say our goodbyes. You know, get the most bang for my buck. Or, in this case," he states, gesturing to his gun, "the most buck for my bang."

His face turning serious, he advances on Sara with a menacing expression. "I was hoping to watch you all perish slowly and painfully in the blazing desert sun, but as you are clearly getting a bit too close to the interstate for my comfort, I am going to have to step in and end things myself. A bit quicker, perhaps, but hopefully no less painful." His gaze grows threatening. "After all, I have a little retribution to get for the way my partner was gunned down like an animal."

"Officer Trenton," Sara says, her own expression and stance not wavering.

Nodding, Chris is now pointing his weapon at Sara. "Of course, that's why you came out to the cabin, isn't it? Somehow you made the connection, realized who I was."

Watching their interaction, I note that my sister is silently approaching Chris from behind. I don't know the first thing about handling situations like this, but something tells me that trying to overpower the man with a gun is not exactly the safest of plans.

Sara no doubt sees what Catherine is doing, and based on the stiffness of her posture, she is not too fond of this plan either.

Realizing that something is amiss, Chris begins to swing around. Instantly, Sara jerks forward, diverting his attention sufficiently enough with her rapid movement to get his gun swung back in her direction.

Grabbing hold of his arm as she sidesteps him, Sara latches onto his wrist with all her strength, fighting to keep the gun pointed away from everyone involved. Chris swings around with his other arm, punching at Sara to get her to let go. In desperation, when it's obvious Sara isn't going to be that easy to overpower despite her weakened state, he grabs hold of her bad shoulder and squeezes hard.

Sara lets out a tortured growl through clenched teeth but doesn't release her grip. Reaching up from behind them, Catherine pulls around and gets Chris in a choke hold. Realizing he is becoming dangerously outnumbered, Chris tries frantically to get Catherine off his back before she succeeds in strangling him.

His grip on the gun sufficiently loosened as he focuses now on Catherine, Sara bends his arm awkwardly, forcing him to drop the weapon. Immediately, Sara kicks the gun away and moves desperately to help Catherine who is now coming close to being overpowered herself by the much larger man.

Skittering across the rocky surface, the gun comes to a perfect stop at my feet.

Reaching down as if in a dream, I pick up the weapon.

Absently, I register the fact that this is the first time I have ever held a loaded weapon in my hand, and the weight of the gun surprises me.

Raising it without conscious thought, I point it directly at Chris's chest.

"Get away from him," I demand, not recognizing my own voice as it passes through the desert.

Instantly, all motion stops and three pairs of eyes are focused on me.

Hesitantly, my sister is the first to move away.

"Nancy…" she begins, but her voice is lost in the thundering of blood through my head.

"Move, Sara." I demand, needing them both at a safe distance before I take the shot.

Looking hesitantly between me and Catherine, Sara slowly moves away from Chris.

The world is utterly silent, or at least that's the way it seems to me. Chris appears to my eyes as a blurry image, and part of me wonders if this is my body's way of depersonalizing him so that I will be able to pull the trigger. If I could see him clearly, I don't think I would have the strength in me. But like this, his features an unrecognizable haze, he appears to me as the fiend and ghoul that he revealed himself to be.

Without another thought, I pull the trigger.

* * *

CATHERINE POV

With the explosion of the gun, I know that my sister's life is over. Yes, some would say she is justified to have taken the shot, but there are types of people in this world who never recover after taking a life, regardless of the justifications or the circumstances.

My sister, well, she is one of those types.

Nancy Elise Flynn brooded for two weeks straight when she accidentally hit and killed a raccoon with her car when she was 19 years old. Now, she is on the verge of having taken a human life with her own hands.

Closing my eyes as Chris's body falls in slow motion, the last thing I see is the vacant stare on my sister's face.

She will never forgive herself, never move past this moment in time, of this I am sure.

Covering my face with my hands, I can't bear to witness the complete destruction of my sister's psyche.

The world remains silent.

Finally prying my eyes open when I recognize the sound of footsteps, I watch as Sara takes a slow and hesitant step towards Chris's form. From here, I can see that he is still breathing, but the hole in his chest makes it evident that he won't be for much longer.

Turning, Sara's eyes connect with my own, and I can tell that she registers the feelings of anguish and utter devastation painted across my features. I know that she realizes the reasoning behind my horror, especially because the same anguish is emanating from her own eyes.

She knows as well as I do that taking Chris's life spells the end for a person like Nancy.

Stepping back with a painful breath, Sara turns to face Nancy and approaches her with desperate purpose, her rapid movement breaking the strange stagnation and haze that previously permeated the scene.

"Give me…the gun, Nancy," she demands, her voice laced with urgency.

"Nancy!" Sara all but yells when my sister remains staring at Chris's body as his life slowly drains out of him.

Grabbing hold of the gun herself, Sara pries it from Nancy's stiff fingers.

Turning, Sara strides up to Chris on shaking legs and cocks the gun, pointing it directly at his head.

Her aim, unlike her stance, does not waver. Does not falter.

Hesitating only a moment, Sara pulls the trigger before I have the chance to form a single conscious thought.

The blast is deafening.

Sara remains standing over Chris's now deceased form for a minute before she finally turns away.

Moving unsteadily back towards Nancy, Sara's head is directed firmly at the ground as she stops in front of my sister.

Forcing herself with what appears to be all the emotional strength she has left in her, she brings her eyes to Nancy's.

"You didn't kill him."

Without another word, Sara walks away, stopping about a hundred yards off.

Tossing the gun forcefully to the ground, she places her hands on her head, clearly trying to pull herself together after what she just did.

Turning to stare at the brunette, Nancy's eyes slowly shift from Chris's body to Sara's and back again, obviously trying to get her mind to register everything that has just transpired.

For me, what has just transpired is eerily clear.

Closing my eyes in a futile attempt to pretend that all of this is not really transpiring, I find myself sinking to my knees.

The sun beats down mercilessly, and I vaguely register the tremor in my hands as I clench my fingers into fists.

Faintly, I hear the sound of someone retching.

Covering my ears with my clenched hands, I lower my head and wait for this nightmare to end.

* * *

**AN: Oh my. **


	21. Chapter 21

**AN: Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who took the time to review last chapter. I was a bit nervous about how the end of the last chapter would be received, but I was very pleased to see that people seemed to like it. **

**I apologize for the length of time between chapters, and I appreciate you all sticking with me and this story. I cannot tell you how much your kind words and support have meant.**

**Hope everyone is doing well.**

**Take care and enjoy. **

* * *

SARA POV

Dropping my service weapon onto the wooden desk with a resounding thud, I barely offer Brass a goodbye as I leave his office. I've been placed on leave until further notice, and it's clear that it is going to take the internal affairs office awhile to sort this shooting out. It probably won't help expedite matters that this is the second fatal shooting I have been involved in in a relatively short amount of time.

Exiting the lab, I go out of my way to avoid talking with anyone. To be quite honest, I'm not in the mood for small talk or any sort of half-assed consolations offered up by people that have no clue what it's like to take a life or the circumstances that led you to that moment, that decision.

From the minute I finished hiking those last couple miles in the desert to the interstate to get help, I have been privy to more cliché phrases than an entire box of greeting cards. There are only so many times I can hear 'every kill's a tough one', 'it never gets easier to take a life', and my personal favorite 'his decisions are what killed him, not yours' before I electively remove my ears.

Officer Trenton was killed in self defense. There aren't words or consolations for what I did regarding Christian Dane in the desert.

And perhaps what is the most sickening to me, what is weighing heaviest on my mind, is that I don't regret what I did. Not when faced with the alternative of letting Chris die at the hands of Nancy Flynn.

Sitting in the Tahoe, I lean my head back against the seat, not the slightest clue where to go from here. Catherine is with Nancy; we have insisted that she stay with us at our house for now. I think the offer was as much to bring comfort to Catherine as it was to Nancy. It's obvious that they need each other to get through this, and I am glad that they have such a close relationship with one another.

It's been clear that Nancy is having a hard time coping with everything that has happened. She went from having a fiancé to shooting that same fiancé in the chest after he tried to kill her in the span of about a week. Now, that same man is dead, and despite the evil person he turned out to be, there was a long period of time where she loved him. She has to reconcile the loss of a loved one along with a mess of anger, hurt, betrayal, guilt, and God only knows what else. There are so many times a day that I find myself wishing that Chris never walked into our lives, into her life.

Due to my forced leave of absence and Catherine voluntarily taking the next two weeks off, the Vergenson case has been given to day shift. The frustration with having worked a case so hard for so long only to have it taken away is nearly overwhelming. Part of me, the very optimistic part of me, hopes that some fresh eyes will perhaps be able to pick up on something that we missed and lead to an arrest if the killer is still out there. If me losing the case is what it takes to finally stop those appalling killings, then I would have given it up the day I got the assignment slip.

Putting the car into drive, I make my way absently through the streets of Vegas. I don't think I can head home right away. There is something about being around so much devastation that sends me to a uniquely dark place. Call me selfish, but I need to escape it for just a little while longer. Nancy has been having nightmares, and Catherine is beside herself trying to be sure that Nancy is somehow going to make it out of this okay. I am trying to be strong for them both, offering my ear to them when they need to talk, my shoulder when they need to cry, my presence when they can't stand to do either. It's the only way that I can make it through right now myself - helping them in any small way I am able so I feel like I am doing something to make things better. But, I need to preserve my own sanity in order to be able to do that and be of any help to them at all.

Fuck, who am I kidding? I lost my sanity the moment Christian Dane tainted our lives with his malice and left us drowning in the aftermath.

Reaching down, I restlessly shake the pill bottle that I received from the hospital after the surgery to remove the stun gun spikes from my shoulder. Apparently a torn ligament and some nerve damage is enough to get you a full bottle of Oxycodone, plus refills. I think it hints at just how bad of a place I was in when I accepted the prescription in the first place. Then, at the bad place I was in when I left in the middle of the night to get it filled. Now, it speaks to my current darkness as I pull off to the side of the road and remove the cap.

Looking around me at the deserted landscape that I vaguely wonder how I arrived at, I place two pills on my tongue. It's one of those moments when you know you are on the verge of making one of the biggest mistakes of your life, but it only makes you want to do it more. Just so you can finally stop debating about it and get the fall from grace over with already.

Swallowing the pills dry, I rest my head against the cold glass of the car window in morbid relief. Sometimes, the feeling of falling is better than standing on the precipice waiting for that inevitable moment you are going to take the plunge.

Sighing, I turn on my blinker and merge back onto the road.

Clenching the steering wheel anxiously, I wait for the pills to take affect so that I no longer feel the harsh bite of the vile emotions currently raging inside of me. The emotions that I know pose a threat to not just myself, but more importantly to those around me. Those around me that are so desperately relying on me to be a calm and sturdy source of comfort right now.

I cannot fall apart, I cannot express any of the rage and hatred I have buried beneath the surface, the dangerous and dark emotions that, given the chance, would destroy all the control I have worked so hard to gain over my life.

And, to do that, to maintain that control and be that sturdy version of myself everyone has come to rely on, I need nothing more right now than to feel nothing at all.

* * *

CATHERINE POV

It's been about a week since everything that happened in the desert. Sara turned in her gun and her ID when she got out of the hospital a couple days ago, on temporary leave until the IA office makes its ruling on the shooting. I took some time off as well, so Sara and I have both been around the house, seeing each other briefly here and there as we take turns watching over Nancy.

Opening the front door quietly, I step out onto the porch. Making my way towards the figure standing in the early morning shadows, I step up next to her and place my hand on her shoulder.

Feeling Sara jump, I smile slightly at the fact that I caught her off guard. Sara always seems to sense other people's presence around her, and the fact that I successfully approached her without her notice speaks to just how deep in thought she must have been.

"Hey, sorry," I offer, "Didn't mean to spook you."

She sends me a knowing look, "No, but you enjoyed it."

I snort, shaking my head, "Alright, fine. I did get a small amount of pleasure out of it."

Sara smiles, but her smile fades as she returns her gaze out to the darkness of the approaching dawn. When she turns back to me a moment later, her eyes grow concerned.

"You alright? You're up early…"

I nod, leaning against the porch rail next to her. "I'm alright, I guess. Just couldn't sleep. It's been a long couple of days."

Her eyes narrow with worry, looking me over, "Everything okay?"

I shrug, "Just have a lot on my mind. I was actually hoping to catch you before your walk and see if I could join you?"

Sara's morning runs have been forced into morning walks via doctor's orders, at least for the next month or so. Well, that's not entirely accurate. I think no matter what the doctors told her, she would be running right now if she could. What really forced her to turn them into morning walks is the fact that her leg really gave her no other choice.

Although she never talks about it or acknowledges it, Sara was pretty messed up physically by everything that happened in the desert. For one thing, the stun gun did a number on her, and by the time she reached help, the combination of the electricity and the exertion wrecked havoc on her previously injured leg. The first day out of the hospital, Sara could barely walk on it at all before it would buckle under her own weight. Now, she has thankfully gotten some strength back into it to the point where she can walk relatively long distances, but she is still nowhere near being able to take her usual morning runs. I know it is frustrating to her, to have come so far with her recovery from her first injury only to be sent back to square one. But I know Sara, and she is relentless when it comes to accomplishing something she wants. So I have no concern that she will get herself back to where she used to be.

"Of course," Sara tells me, drawing me back to the present. "You want some coffee to take with us?"

She gestures towards the porch table, and I smile when I see a carafe with a couple mugs near it. Raising my brow, I ask, "Long night?"

She sees my look and suppresses a smile as she pours me a cup. "Perhaps."

Handing the cup to me, I let my hand linger on hers a moment longer than necessary, enjoying the brief contact. Sara silently watches me for a moment, before snapping out of her daze and refilling her own cup.

Stepping off the porch together, we head towards the path along the back of the neighborhood that will offer us the most privacy. As we begin our walk, it almost feels a bit awkward as this is essentially the first time Sara and I have been truly alone since the desert. Nancy came back to stay with us immediately after, and both Sara and I have been sure that one of us is always nearby with her so she isn't without help if she needs anything. But, the last couple days Nancy seems to be doing a bit better, and the last thing I want to do is make her feel smothered or that we don't trust her to be alone.

"How are you holding up with everything?" Sara asks me, her voice quiet.

"I don't know really," I tell her honestly. "There are moments where I feel fine about it all, where I feel like Nancy is going to be okay and we are all going to move on like nothing happened. Then there are moments where I feel like the world as I knew it just crashed down on me and everyone that I love and things will never be the same. Right now I think I am somewhere between the two."

"I know," Sara whispers, her eyes closing briefly under my words. When she opens them again they are sympathetic, troubled, and before she looks away I can see the aggravation she has at not being able to do anything to fix things. For me. For Nancy. I recognize it because it is the same aggravation I have brewing inside of myself. We both want a quick solution, something to make everything better for everyone involved, but there isn't one. Not for something like this. And that's something we have both been working hard to accept.

"How are _you_ holding up, Sara?" I ask.

Sara has always been a relatively quiet person, but lately, with everything going on, she has seemed particularly withdrawn. I know she likely has a lot on her mind, we all do, but I can't help but shake the feeling that there is something else that has been going on with her as well.

"I'm alright," she answers, taking a swallow or two of her coffee, her gaze on the path before us. "You know how it is."

I furrow my brows, somewhat puzzled by her answer. Of course I 'know how it is' in regards to the events that happened to bring us to this current moment, everything that happened with Chris. But I really don't 'know how it is' in regards to what impact any of those events had on my stoic lover. Sara is about as transparent about her feelings as mud. And that's on a good day. Physically, Sara is still in the beginning stages of recovering from some serious injuries. Even now I can tell our walk is taking its toll on her - her limp would give her away even if the pained tension in her posture didn't. Emotionally, Sara just killed a man for the second time. And, while I honestly don't think she has any of the feelings of guilt she battled with after killing Officer Trenton, I feel like I do not have a good read on what she _is_ feeling about it. Hell, I feel like I do not have a good read on what she feels about Chris Dane himself now that everything is said and done. Or even about Nancy for that matter. Sara has been a saint to Nancy this past week, but I know Sara well enough to know that there is a lot she isn't saying when it comes to her relationship with my sister. I think there is a lot of hurt, a lot of anger even, that Sara has regarding my sister. But, knowing Sara and the gentle hearted person that she is, there is no way she would feel comfortable addressing or even acknowledging any of those feelings with Nancy. Not after everything that happened. Sara isn't the type of person to admit that she's been hurt, physically or emotionally, by anyone anytime - but especially not when the person she would be admitting it to is currently also deeply hurt. No, Sara is the type to keep her issues to herself until she finds a way to deal with them alone, solving them before anyone else is even aware there ever was an issue to begin with.

And, let's face it, she's a master at it.

"You sure?" I ask, trying to get her eyes to meet mine.

Sara looks confused, glancing over at me briefly before turning her attention back to the road. "Positive."

When I don't respond at all after a few moments, Sara turns and takes a longer look at me. Noting my expression, she sighs. "Look, Catherine, I am okay. I really am. Sure I am still upset about what happened, and I think I will be for awhile. But I think that's to be expected – who in this situation wouldn't be upset about everything that transpired. Especially when it affected two people they care so much about. But, all things considered, I'm fine. I know myself, and I know I'll be okay. It's you and it's Nancy that I am worried about."

Keeping her eyes on mine, she lets me see just enough to see the honesty in her statement. There is still a lot she is keeping out of reach, tucked somewhere underneath, but her honesty is clear. For better or for worse, Sara really does think that she is doing just fine.

I don't know what to think, quite frankly, but the fact that she is apparently being honest with me sets some of my fears aside. Granted, I still am suspicious that there is something that she isn't telling me, something else going on, but I don't think I have a choice other than to trust her right now. It may be selfish, but I need her too much right now to confront her and risk driving a wedge between us. I can't risk something like that on something that is nothing more than a hunch.

Sighing, I nod my head slowly. "Alright, but I'm here if you need me," I tell her. "No matter how 'fine' you are."

Sara nods as well, her expression and her dark eyes serious. "I know you are, and I appreciate it. I really do. If I need to talk or whatever, Catherine, you have my word that I will come to you."

I let out a breath, amazed and thankful for Sara's ability to read me so well. Her promise is just what I needed to hear. If there is one thing I know about the woman standing next to me, it is that she never breaks her word.

"Thank you," I state in almost a whisper, my relief making my steps feel just a bit lighter. However, there is still one topic hanging over my head that is pressing heavily on my heart. One which I know I cannot keep to myself much longer.

Walking a bit more in silence, we are each lost in our own heads until the point comes when I simply cannot take the thoughts raging inside me anymore. Reaching out, I pull Sara to a stop.

"Sara," I start, pausing to clear my throat from the rising emotion threatening to obstruct my words, "I need to talk to you about what you did for Nancy."

"Catherine," Sara starts, shaking her head to cut off what it is I feel I need to tell her, her tense posture letting me know she suspects what is going to come out of my mouth and that she wants absolutely nothing to do with it. Wants absolutely nothing to do with this upcoming topic of conversation at all.

"No, Sara," I state, gripping her arm tightly, holding her in place. "Please let me say this. _Please_."

Searching my eyes, Sara finally takes a breath and gives a tense nod of her head, willing to give me, give this conversation, the benefit of the doubt.

"I know you don't want to hear it, but I want to thank you for what you did for my sister. I-"

Hearing her suspicions about the purpose of my words confirmed, Sara shuts down. Shaking her head adamantly, Sara pulls her body harshly away from me. "Catherine, stop-"

Reaching forward and grabbing Sara tightly by both arms this time, I hear my voice shaking. "No, Sara, I won't stop!" I all but yell. "I need to say this, I need to get it out of me. I know you, and I know this will never be something you bring up under your own volition. If I don't bring it up we will never talk about it, Sara. And I need to talk about it, I _need _to say this to you. So I am bringing it up now. Please, Sara, I am begging you to just _listen_ to me."

The emotion pouring out of me, the sheer desperation in my voice and the trembling in my hands as they frantically grip her arms seem to catch Sara off guard. She still looks tense, guarded, angry, and about a thousand other things, but she finally stops trying to pull away from me. Sara doesn't have it in her to deny me something that obviously means so much to me.

"Alright, okay, I'm sorry."

When she remains silent, her hazel eyes dark but giving me their full attention, I take a breath and try again. I keep my grip on her arms tight, but I think now it is more for my own benefit, needing something to cling to, to ground me, as I get out what I have to say.

"I want to thank you for what you did for Nancy, Sara. It was the most selfless thing I think I have ever witnessed in my life. I know I can never thank you enough, or make it up to you what you did, what you sacrificed, for her. And I know you don't want me to try. But I just wanted you to know how grateful I am, how aware of it I am. You saved Nancy's life, Sara. You saved my sister, my baby sister, and I thank God for you and your sacrifice that day. I wish you didn't have to go through that, have to be put in the position to have chosen something like that, but I know that because you were, and because you did, my sister has a second chance at life. I'm just sorry for the price you had to pay to give it to her. I am so sorry, Sara."

Tears fall freely from my eyes, my throat choking on a sob as it wrenches itself from my lips. I have kept this all inside for numerous days and sleepless nights, and letting out now feels like it has the power to rip me apart from the inside. Despite my death grip on her, Sara manages to reposition herself so that she can encircle me in her arms, holding me tightly against her as sobs tear through me so violently that my knees threaten to buckle.

"Shh, Catherine," Sara whispers softly into my hair as my forehead presses against her shoulder. "It's alright, sweetheart."

Shaking my head angrily, I ball my hands into fists and pound them against Sara's chest. "No, it's not! She is my _sister_, and I never even thought to do anything to save her! I just _stood_ there and watched her take that shot. And then I just stood there and watched him slowly die. I never should have even moved away from Chris to give her that opportunity in the _first_ _place_! I knew exactly what she was going to try to do, and I still moved! But even so, once I fucked that up, I should have been the one to kill him, Sara, it was _my _responsibility, _my _job to protect her and I didn't! I didn't do a goddamn thing!"

Sara keeps me pulled tightly against her, ignoring my fists as they pound against her until I don't even have the strength to do that anymore and I clench her shirt in my hands instead. Screaming my anguish out into the crisp morning air, I don't care about the neighbors, about being overheard. All I care about is getting this all out of me – all this regret, anger, rage. Sara knows this as well, simply letting me get all of my anguish out without interruption or false reassurances, and I love her all the more for it.

When I finally feel as though I have nothing left in me, all my anger transformed into resignation, I rest my head against Sara's chest. There is nothing I can change about what happened, and now I need to learn to accept that and move on. What's done is done. Breathing deeply to catch my breath, I let myself feel surrounded and strengthened by Sara's strong embrace, her heart beating steadily against my ear.

Pulling away slightly after a moment, Sara looks into my eyes, her own hazel ones conflicted as she assesses me. Reaching out, Sara silently brushes the tears from my face with her fingers, her hands lingering there before finally dropping away.

Taking a deep breath, I open my mouth before she can speak. "I'm sorry I lost it like that…I just…"

Sara places her hands on my hips, her gaze dark. "Catherine, do not apologize to me for something like this. Ever. I'm sorry you have been keeping all that inside for so long, I should have done a better job of checking in with you these past couple days. I really am sorry."

I shake my head, placing my hand against the side of her face to keep her gaze on mine. "We've both been so concerned about Nancy that we simply haven't had a lot of opportunities to talk like this, just the two of us. And that's no one's fault."

I start to turn away, but Sara catches my hand to stop me and turn me back to her. She takes a breath, shadows from the rising sun crossing her features and casting them in contrasts of light and dark.

"About what you said, Catherine…"

I place my hand flat against her chest to stop her, "No, Sara, what I said stands. I meant every word of it."

Taking my hand away from her chest to hold it in hers, Sara's expression is tense. "I know you did, Catherine. But I also mean every word when I say that you have _nothing_ to be sorry for, nothing to feel guilty about. It was a horrific situation, Catherine, and you cannot blame yourself for shutting down in the moment. Any normal person would have. You did absolutely _nothing wrong_. About any of it. And as for what I did regarding Chris," Sara trails off, her jaw clenching as she turns away, my hand falling from hers. "What I did to Chris was not a hard decision for me, Catherine. I'm ashamed to admit to you how easy it actually was. I couldn't let Nancy kill him, and killing him myself was the only way to prevent that. Simple."

I start to open my mouth, but Sara turns her gaze back to mine, effectively silencing me when I see the anger held there. "I don't regret it, Catherine. Hell, I don't really even think about it, no matter how sick of a person that makes me. But, most of all, I don't want you or Nancy or anyone feeling like you _owe_ me something for killing that bastard. It was my choice, my decision, and I made it. Now I just want to move on. Please."

Looking her over, the tension in her frame, the fury burning in her eyes just below the surface, the tightly clenched fists, I understand her need to forget about her act that day – to put it behind her and try to forget it ever happened. She doesn't need to keep rehashing that awful event, or listen to others keep rehashing it, and I vow to myself not to bring up her decision to pull that trigger again. She let me express to her my gratitude for her sacrifice, her sacrifice that I will never ever forget, and now the best thing I can do for her is honor her request to let it go and move on.

"Alright," I tell her softly, gently taking hold of her hands and pulling her fingers apart so they are no longer in fists, lacing them instead gently with mine. Sara looks down at our newly joined hands for a moment, before her gaze falls back on my face.

"You can come to me, Catherine, any time you need to talk about what happened. Just, I don't want to talk about my decision to kill him. I'm sorry."

Sara's gaze is focused off to my right, and I know she is worried that her request to not talk about her killing Chris will make me feel like I can't talk about anything that happened with him at all. Sara knows how much we all need each other right now, and she is adamant about keeping herself available to me should I need to talk about any of the events that brought us to this place.

"Thank you, Sara," I tell her sincerely, knowing there is no way in hell I could make it through the road ahead without her. "I will certainly take you up on it. I have a feeling quite a bit, actually."

"Good."

Sara's eyes meet mine briefly before she turns her gaze out towards the horizon, swallowing as she tries to recenter herself.

"Sara?" I ask after a second or two.

"Yeah?"

"Where the hell did our coffees go?"

Sara snorts, a genuine smile lighting her face for the first time in a long while. "I set them down on the curb."

I furrow my brows, looking behind her to indeed find our two mugs sitting there side by side. "When did that happen?"

Sara laughs, "Right when you first pulled me to a stop to talk with you. From the look in your eyes, I had a feeling it would become a safety hazard to keep scalding hot liquid in your possession for the conversation that was about to come."

"That is so creepy, I was so completely focused on what I was trying to say that I didn't even notice..."

Sara sends me a look, "I know, you seemed a bit distracted, thus the decision to remove the items with the potential to cause third degree burns from the vicinity."

I shake my head, still a bit disconcerted but also a good deal amused as well. "Thank you."

Sending me a wink, Sara steps back to pick up our cups. Handing me mine, she joins our free hands together. "Anytime."

Continuing our walk, I am lost in thought for a bit as I think about everything that was said between us and everything that wasn't.

"Sara?"

Seemingly pulled from her own thoughts, Sara turns her attention to me. "Yeah?"

"Can I ask you something about Chris?"

Sara nods, "Sure."

"Do you think he picked Nancy because he knew who she was? Or do you think it was a stroke of fate that he discovered after they had already been dating?"

Sara lets out a sigh, "I don't know. I've asked myself that same question a billion times. As I would assume Nancy has as well. I don't think we will ever know."

I nod, hating the idea of my sister having to wonder whether the man she had been engaged to was only pretending to love her for their entire relationship.

"Can I ask you something else?"

Sara raises a brow, "Only if you promise to stop asking me if you can ask me things."

"Deal," I promise her. "Between me and you, do you think Chris could have been involved in the Vergenson cases?"

Sara takes a deep breath, the action letting me know that she has also pondered this question, this appalling idea. Knowing Sara, she has probably been mulling it over for days already.

"Maybe." Sara's narrow, her expression dark. "It wouldn't surprise me if he was involved somehow. He was a surgeon. The bodies in the Vergenson cases were all mutilated and altered by someone with surgical training. The missing cases that Officer Trenton removed from evidence, cases we know for sure he was involved in, were cases with similar types of dismemberment of the victims, simply without the redistribution of body parts. It's not impossible that those missing cases and the Vergenson cases were performed by the same person – a person whose violence and perversion escalated and evolved over time. Was that person both Christian Dane? I don't know. The timeline would fit. But, again, I don't think we will ever know unless something new happens with the Vergenson case."

Sara takes a deep breath, her eyes scanning the nearby tree line. "But, I hope for Nancy's sake, if Chris did have anything to do with the Vergenson cases, we don't ever find out. I thought I would give anything to solve that case. But, when I think about it, if Chris Dane is the solution, I pray that it never gets solved."

Taking my own breath, I squeeze Sara's hand tightly in mine. "I agree."

Walking a couple more minutes, we reach the top of the hill at the outskirt of our neighborhood. Turning around, we can see the houses laid out below us, the mountains a picturesque frame to the scene before us.

Without a word, Sara sits herself down, folding her arms across her knees as she looks out at the rooftops below. Sitting next to her, I smile as she readjusts her position so that I am resting between her legs, leaning back against her as she wraps her arms tightly around my shoulders.

Neither of us says anything for quite some time, both content to sit here and enjoy the rare moments of silence, of solitude, with one another. We know that as soon as we return to the house, we will return to our lives and everything that currently entails. But, right now, up here, we are, if just for a moment, physically and emotionally removed from it all.

And it is beautiful.

* * *

**AN: Thank you for reading. As always, your thoughts and comments are welcomed.**


	22. Chapter 22

**AN: A huge thank you to my reviewers – your words and the fact that you take the time to share them with me absolutely make my day. I truly love hearing everyone's thoughts and points of view. You are all very much appreciated.**

**Hope everyone is doing well.**

**Take care and enjoy.**

* * *

NANCY POV

It's been two and a half weeks since my life shattered to pieces in the desert.

As I get into my car, however, I can't help but marvel at how far I've come towards accepting everything that has happened. For awhile there were nightmares, and then waking up and having all the memories come crashing back to me was another nightmare, that time a waking one. But now, now I sleep through the night again, and I find myself able to think about other things during the day. Granted, my thoughts return to Chris a lot, but for the first time I can truthfully say he's not _all_ I think about.

If there is anything I have going for me in all of this, it is that I am an extremely rational thinker. I know there is nothing I can do to change anything that has already happened, so I am dedicated to accepting it all and moving forward. I know the accepting part will take awhile, but I am anxious to truly begin the moving forward portion.

In the true moving forward spirit, I started back at work this week. It's been a couple days so far, but I think the transition back was easier than I expected it to be. There is something about being somewhere so familiar to remind you of the person that you used to be. The person that you were for numerous years, the person who still remains even after everything that has happened to her along the way.

Now that I have gone back to work, I split my time between my house and my sister's. I like to stop by their place a lot – not just for myself, but for Catherine as well. I think it reassures her to see me with her own two eyes, to personally be able to check in and be sure that I am doing alright. Sara likely feels the same, but she, as always, is a bit harder to read. But, that being said, the quiet brunette has been absolutely wonderful to me these past weeks. She knows just when to step in, when to leave me alone, when to say something, when to just be silent with me. I honestly don't know what place I would be in right now without her or my sister.

I don't know how she does it, but Sara has been remarkably calm and collected through this whole ordeal. I think the only way my sister was able to cope with everything was the fact that she could focus her attentions on me, for better or for worse, without having to worry about Sara falling apart as well. The brunette has been instrumental to my recovery, and I feel myself growing hopeful that someday all of us are going to be okay again.

As I maneuver my car into the turning lane, I think back to the second night staying at my sister's house. I had a particularly vivid nightmare involving the moment I pulled the trigger in the desert and saw my fiancé's life slowly draining away into the desert sand. I suspect Sara might have been sitting in my room at the time watching over me, because she was instantly by my side. She didn't say anything at first, which in retrospect I believe was pivotal. In the silence, I poured my heart out to her, tears cascading down my face as I screamed and cried about everything that happened. Did Chris ever even love me? Was our relationship all a ploy? What kind of person am I that I was willing to kill him? Will I ever find love again? Pulling me close, Sara held me until there was nothing left in me, emotionally or physically. And then, then we talked. One by one, Sara went through all of my questions with me, providing insight and answers that I realize now I was starving to hear. She was willing to explore all the darkness inside of me, addressing each skeleton in each closet in such a way that I felt confident when I closed the door on each issue that the door was forever closed, no longer holding some retched beast behind it waiting for the right moment to sneak back up on me.

And, most of all, she was honest. Her answers weren't given to reassure me – they were given to help me through by being candid and genuine. She didn't try to comfort and placate me, and that perhaps was the greatest comfort of all.

As my subsequent nights became incrementally more peaceful, I realize that I owe it to Sara. Not only for what she did for me that night, but for what she did for me in the desert. After experiencing the horror of realizing that I, Nancy Flynn, could make the choice to kill another human being, I know with absolute certainty that the horror of actually _killing_ that other human being would have destroyed me. I am not ignorant to the fact that Chris likely would have died very quickly after my shooting him if Sara had not pulled the trigger that second time. That I essentially _did_ kill a human being. But, that little bit of hope that perhaps the bullet didn't penetrate his heart as it passed through his chest, or that somehow he would have pulled through if we had gotten him help quickly, is enough to allow me to maintain my grasp on my sanity. That little bit of hope that Chris might have been able to pull through made all the difference to me. I can still walk through life without the constant shadow of the life I ended following close behind me.

I don't know how to repay Sara for her selfless act. Hell, let's be honest, I never can. And, I know Sara well enough to know that's not something she even remotely wants anyway.

Sara hasn't really spoken much about her decision to take Chris's life with her own hands, the only time she even mentioned it was that night I screamed out all my fears to her in the darkness. I told her that I was so sorry for her having to be in the position to make that decision, and how ashamed I was that I was glad that she was the one who ended Chris's life and not me. How the burden was hers and not mine. All she said was, "It would have destroyed you, Nancy, and when the decision was between his life or yours, it was a simple decision to choose yours." She waited a moment, and then in almost a whisper, she added, "I wasn't going to sit there and watch the destruction of my best friend."

Best friend.

Despite all that we had been through up to that point, all the shit that went on between us as a result of Christian Dane, she still considered me her best friend. And, I realized that night, it was the first time she ever referred to me as such. Sara is a tough person to get to know and get to let you in, so having her openly refer to me as her best friend nearly brought me to tears. I can only hope that in the future I do a better job of living up to my end the title.

Speaking of the brunette, a honking behind me jolts me back to the present moment and my intended destination. Sending the driver behind me a distracted wave of apology, I scan the sides of the road after I complete my turn. Spotting what I am looking for a few yards ahead on the right, I direct my car into the parking lot. Killing the engine, I look up at the sign with a sigh. Scanning the lot and finding Sara's Tahoe parked near the back my sigh only deepens.

I don't want to do this. Don't want to have the conversation I am about to have. As much as I know I have to, I can't help but wonder how I can say the things I am about to say to the brunette after everything Sara has done for me, all the times she has been there for me. I guess I just need to keep reminding myself that what I am about to do, what I am about to say, is what is required in order for _me_ to be there for _her_. And, I also remind myself, she is the one who put herself in this position in the first place. Put us both in this atrocious position.

My motivation effectively renewed and my emotions rising, I unlock my car and step out.

Crossing the parking lot and heading inside, it's not hard to spot Sara sitting near the back as the handful of other patrons are all huddled around the bar.

Sliding into the booth across from her, Sara barely glances up.

"Hey," she offers distractedly, making another note on the paper in front of her.

When I don't respond, she eventually looks up at me. Looking around, Sara finally seems to remember where she is and the oddity in the fact that I am suddenly there with her.

"Nancy, what are you doing here? Is everything okay?"

Nodding, I send her a small smile, "Everything's fine."

Sara nods slowly at my cryptic answer, not believing me nor understanding what I am doing here, but she is letting me take the lead.

Gesturing to the papers spread out around her, I quirk my head. "Some casual reading for your evening at the bar?"

Gathering some of the papers up, Sara stacks them off to the side. "I am going over the notes for some of my cases."

I narrow my eyes, "Aren't you suspended for the duration of the internal affairs investigation? Isn't it illegal for you to be looking at anything case related?"

Sara nods. "Yes."

Her answer is blunt, honest, and unapologetic.

"Then why?" I ask, wondering why someone already on a tight rope would risk to pushing things even further.

"Because I can't do it after I'm fired."

I shake my head, "What? Sara, I'm sorry, but you are not making any sense to me right now whatsoever."

Putting her pen down, Sara rubs her temples. "I am going over my cases, Nancy, because I have all my notes written in shorthand. If I am fired, the person who gets assigned to take over these cases is not going to have any clue what they say. And, once I am fired, I definitely cannot and will not have any access to the cases. Right now, I figure, is my best time to do this. If I don't get fired, then there's no harm in it anyway. But if I do get fired, at least my cases have a shot at getting solved by someone else."

She meets my eyes briefly before looking away to gather the rest of the papers together. Pushing them off to the side, she returns her gaze to mine.

"But I don't think you came here to talk to me about my choice of reading materials."

Her gaze is serious, challenging.

Never being the type of person to back down from a challenge, I meet her eyes squarely. "No, I didn't."

Sensing movement to the side, I hear someone ask, "Can I get you anything to drink?"

Neither Sara nor I break our tense gaze from one another to look at the waitress.

"No."

Mumbling something in response to my terse tone, the waitress heads off to other tables which likely hold much more pleasant patrons.

"I came here to talk to you, Sara." I take a breath. This is it. "To talk to you about why the hell you've been lying to Catherine and I."

Eyes growing dark at my words, Sara clenches her jaw.

"Get to your point, Nancy," she warns through her teeth.

If there is one thing that ticks Sara off, it is liars – either other people telling lies to her or other people accusing her of telling lies to them.

"I went back to work this week," I tell her, trying to keep my voice even.

She furrows her brows, "I know."

"I work at the hospital you were taken to after the desert."

Sara's eyes narrow. Sara is nothing if not brilliant, and I have no doubts that she is already starting to put the pieces together, starting to figure out where exactly I am going with this conversation. And, if the set of her jaw and her tense posture are any indication, she does not like where I am going with it at all.

"Don't play around with me, Nancy. Say what you came here to say to me."

"You told Catherine and I that the only injuries you had after the desert were your leg and your shoulder. Which are enough, don't get me wrong, but I think you were leaving a couple things out. Wouldn't you agree, Sara?"

If Sara was pissed before, now she is all out furious. Keeping her voice low in an attempt to keep her emotions in check, Sara shakes her head. "I don't know what you think you know, Nancy, but I am telling you right now to back off."

"Too late, Sara. I couldn't back off now even if I wanted to. People at work assumed we were friends, and that friends are honest with each other. I was naive enough to think the same thing. Imagine my surprise when they ask me how you are doing. When they tell me how concerned they have been about you ever since you checked yourself out early. How you left the hospital against medical advice with, and this is the part I found particularly interesting, with 'life threatening injuries'. Which apparently included, get this, cracked ribs and internal bleeding. And that's not even touching on the other things they listed off to me, such as dehydration and malnutrition." I feel my hands clenching into fists despite my best efforts to remain calm. "What the _hell_ were you thinking, Sara?"

"I was thinking that medical records are _private_."

I throw my arms up, "That's it? That's all you have to say for yourself about all of this? That you shouldn't be held accountable because I shouldn't even know about it in the first place?"

Sara doesn't answer, but the inference is obvious.

"That's bullshit, Sara. It's selfish and it's a huge 'fuck you' to both me and Catherine."

Shaking her head, Sara's eyes darken. "Do not go there, Nancy. Do not talk to me about 'fuck you's."

I scoff, "So what, _that's_ the reason? This is some sort of punishment to me for all the hateful things I said to you and Catherine? Which included some 'fuck you's and 'stay out of my life's? So now you decide to take me up on it, keep me out of your life like I asked?"

Sara's fists clench, her anger palpable. "This wasn't about you, Nancy. This was about me, and my right to keep whatever medical information I want private. This conversation we are having? It's out of line, Nancy."

I shake my head in disgust. "You know what's out of line, Sara? The mixed messages you keep sending me. You told me I am your best friend, then you lie to me about serious medical stuff going on with you. You told me you don't blame me for anything that happened with Chris, but you haven't let me near you emotionally or physically since everything that happened. You don't tell me anything anymore, you don't open up to me emotionally, you physically pull away every time I reach out to touch you." I let out a breath, not really knowing what possessed me to let all that out right now, but unable to stop myself all the same. "You can't have everything both ways, Sara. It's confusing, and it's hurtful."

Sara lets out her own breath, her eyes still heated. "I am not trying to hurt you, Nancy. And I am sorry if I have. I truly am. But it doesn't give you the right to invade my privacy like this. I have my reasons for doing what I did, and they have nothing to do with you. Or Catherine."

I furrow my brows, realizing that I need to be thinking about this from another angle. If Sara didn't leave the hospital to keep the extent of her injuries from me and Catherine, which despite her protests, I still feel is part of the reason she left, then why?

Flashing back to the first time I met Sara, bleeding in a bar parking lot, I remember her insistence to me that she not go to a hospital. Back then I got the impression that it was as much to avoid anyone finding out about what happened as it was to actually avoid the hospital. Now, I am realizing otherwise.

"You really do not like hospitals, do you?" I ask, my voice losing some of its edge.

Sara sighs, shaking her head. "I really do not."

I let out my own sigh, "But is it really worth risking your life, Sara? Internal bleeding, cracked ribs – those are not things to be taken lightly. You should be getting routine scans, routine checkups to be sure the bleeding has resolved and that things are healing properly. This is serious, Sara."

Sara doesn't comment, her gaze finally leaving mine to examine the room around us.

"Fine, you checked yourself out AMA to avoid hospitals. But what I don't get is why you didn't at least say something to Catherine or I about how badly you were hurt?"

Eyes shifting back to mine, Sara shrugs. "You would have made me go back."

Looking at her a moment, I eventually nod, "You're right. I would have."

Neither of us says anything more, both silently watching one another, wondering where exactly things go from here.

Eventually, Sara breaks the silence. "I'm not going back there, Nancy. And you are not going to tell Catherine."

Narrowing my eyes, I refuse to be intimidated. "You're right, I'm not going to tell Catherine. You are."

Sara lets out a hint of a smile, but it's not a friendly one. "Of course."

Shaking my head, I lean forward in the booth, my voice cold. "You are going to tell Catherine, Sara. I'll give you a week. If you don't tell her by then, someone from the hospital will anonymously call to check up on you. And, legally, they can say anything they want about your condition to your listed next of kin. Which, unless I am mistaken, is Catherine."

Sara stiffens, her eyes icy as they look me up and down. Her voice when she speaks is quiet, disappointed. "I don't even recognize you right now, Nancy. This isn't the friend I thought I knew."

I let out a sad smile. "That's interesting, Sara, because that's exactly what I was thinking about you."

Sara shakes her head at me, her expression dark. "You may be able to manipulate me into telling Catherine, but I'm not going back to that hospital, Nancy. Not for any checkups, any scans, any goddamn thing. And if you do anything to try to force it, I will share this wonderful conversation we have had tonight with your attending and have you fired for violating my patient privacy rights."

I let out a long breath, wondering how the hell things got to this. How Sara and I got to the point where we have stooped to threatening and blackmailing one another without a second thought. Where self-preservation suddenly took precedence over all else. I knew things had been different, even somewhat tense between us at times since the desert, but now I am realizing in shock just how close to the breaking point they apparently already were.

I think it's safe to say there are things both Sara and I have been repressing, things we have been tucking away and refusing to acknowledge and address with one another these past weeks. I guess all it took was a spark, a confrontation like this, to set us off and bring our true emotions to the surface. It's awful and it's painful, but at least it's finally honest.

"And how is that going to work when you tell Catherine how hurt you actually are? What are you going to threaten _her_ with when she tries to force you to go?"

If possible, Sara's expression gets even darker. Something tells me she did not appreciate the insinuation that she would ever in any way threaten Catherine about anything, nor the fact that I have a very valid point.

I sigh, "I'll make you a deal, Sara. And only because I don't want my sister to get caught up in any of this. If you agree to come to my house, every other day, and let me evaluate your condition until you are one hundred percent healthy, then I will tell my sister you are getting the care you need."

Sara stares at me, her expression a mixture of disdain and discomfort, her eyes looking at me like I have betrayed her in the most wicked of ways.

And, perhaps I have.

"Look, Sara," I start, trying to clear some of the tension in the air. "I'm not trying to be a jerk here, I'm really not. But if I learned one thing from Chris Dane, it's that I refuse to be misled or lied to. You can call what you did whatever you want to justify it to yourself, but from where I am sitting you essentially have spent the last two weeks lying to my face. And, if I learned a second thing from Chris Dane, it's that I refuse to lose those that I care about. Not without a fight." I pause, taking a breath. "You're reckless, Sara, you are so damn reckless with yourself, and one of these times it's going to cost you. I'm not going to let it be this time. For my own sanity, with everything I already feel guilty about with Chris, I cannot let it be this time."

Sara keeps her eyes on mine for a moment, her expression so guarded that she might as well be looking at me from the other side of a brick wall. Without a word, Sara reaches into her pocket and pulls out some money. Tossing it on the table, she grabs her papers and steps out of the booth.

Standing next to me, she doesn't look at me, keeping her head forward and her gaze straight ahead. "I trust that this counts as today's checkup. I'll see you Friday."

I cringe at the hallow tone of her voice, the emptiness.

"Sara-" I start, desperate to not leave things like this. Not to let us part ways in such a negative place. But, as I turn around in the booth to face her, I see that she is already gone.

"Shit," I curse, running my hand through my hair. "Shit. Shit. Shit."

* * *

SARA POV

Leaving the bar, as soon as I am outside I hit the first thing that I see. Which, since I left out the side door, happens to be a large dumpster. Hearing the metallic clang as I make contact, I hit it again and again.

Finally pulling back when my shoulder screams in protest at the abuse, I clutch at the limb and send one final kick to the dumpster instead.

"Damn it!" I yell into the darkness, thankful that no one is around to hear me.

I am pissed beyond belief right now. At myself. At Nancy. At Chris Dane. At pretty much anything and everything. Of course it's my luck that the hospital staff is so close with Nancy that they decide to go ahead and discuss my medical information with her. They had absolutely _no right_, no right whatsoever. And, of course, Nancy being Nancy, she can't just leave it alone. No, she needs to confront me about it, and then essentially blackmail me into telling Catherine.

And, I think that's the part that pisses me off the most.

If Nancy wants to give me shit about what I did, that's fine. But Catherine has enough to worry about right now. Nancy is kidding herself if she thinks her sister is doing fine with everything that happened. Cath has been beside herself, her breakdown with me on our walk the other day just a snapshot of the various emotions she has been battling on a daily basis. And now, what the hell am I supposed to do? Go home and add to that stress, to that worry?

"Fuck!" I yell, not able to resist kicking the dumpster yet again despite the sharp pain it sends radiating down my side. Then, before I can form a conscious thought, I kick it again.

When I can no longer get my body to cooperate to form anything resembling a decent kick, I stop. Breathing heavily, I place my hands atop my head and slowly pace up and down the side of the bar, feeling my heartbeat pounding in my ears.

Running my hands through my hair, I work desperately to settle myself down. Reaching into my pocket to pull out my keys, I find my fingers wrapping around something else instead.

Pulling my hand out, I look at the pill bottle held there. I promised myself that I would get rid of them, that I would pull off the label and discard them somewhere the first chance I got. Looking at this deserted alley, the large dumpster so perfectly placed to the right of me, I realize this is the perfect place to ditch them if I wanted to. I could crush them to bits, scatter them amongst the trash, and no one would ever know the difference.

The problem is, right now I can't think of anything I want to do less.

Opening the cap, I tap a couple pills out into my hand. Feeling the rage building back up inside me, the rage that is tempting me to go find Nancy and tell her just what I think of her, think of her misguided manipulations, I make a decision. Tossing the pills into my mouth, I swallow them quickly.

Catherine may be going through a lot right now, but so is Nancy. I can't let this anger right now towards her make me lose sight of that. I can't let it tempt me into doing something, saying something that I will regret. Something that will turn our relationship from strained to severed. I recognize that I have a lot of buried emotions when it comes to Nancy and everything that transpired, and I know that right now, with how upset I am, it is not the time to address them. I am barely holding onto my control with her lately as it is, and I am afraid one slip, one moment of weakness, and I won't be able to keep things buried. And, quite honestly, I think the types of things I am feeling towards her are the types of things better left unsaid.

Permanently.

Closing my eyes briefly, I open them a moment later and take out my keys. Making my way to my car, I quickly get in, knowing that I should get home and off the road before the pills take full effect.

Merging out into traffic, part of me wonders what Nancy, who apparently considers me 'reckless' based on my past actions, would think of my present ones. Yes, part of me wonders, but the largest part of me quite honestly doesn't care in the least.

Not when I have bigger things to think about.

Like Catherine and the upcoming conversation we will apparently be having.

* * *

**AN: Thank you for reading. As always, thoughts and comments are welcomed and appreciated.**


	23. Chapter 23

**AN: Thank you to those who have reviewed – much much much appreciated. Hope everyone is doing well and have a happy and safe holiday.**

**This chapter is a bit longer than usual, hope you all don't mind. **

**Enjoy.**

* * *

CATHERINE POV

The moment I get home, I feel that something is off. I can't explain it, but something here just doesn't feel right.

I returned back to work this week, starting back at the lab when Nancy started back at the hospital. IA is still deliberating regarding Sara's employment, and so the brunette has been filling her time while I am at work in various other ways. Sara isn't one to sit around, and I actually usually end up beating her home most evenings.

Tonight, however, Sara's Tahoe is parked near the garage, and I can see from the driveway that someone is on the porch swing. Getting closer, my uneasy feeling that something is amiss only grows. Sara is sitting on the swing, looking at the porch ceiling, the porch railing, the porch floor, eyes moving anywhere but near me as I approach, multiple cigarette butts at her feet and an uneasy expression on her face.

"Hey," she greets, her voice a forced calm, her eyes focused to my right.

Stepping up in front of her, I clear my throat. When Sara still doesn't look at me, I put my keys on the porch railing.

"Sara."

Hearing her name, Sara's head bows slightly before her eyes finally rise to meet mine.

"Sorry," she offers quietly, sending me a small smile that doesn't come near to reaching her eyes. "How was work?"

I raise a brow, "It was fine."

"Good," Sara says, her voice polite and genuine, but her thoughts clearly elsewhere.

I don't comment further, letting Sara know that I am well aware that her thoughts are preoccupied, that neither of us is really actually thinking about work right now.

Perhaps noticing the awkward silence after a few moments, Sara looks up. Seeing my expression, she lets out a breath. In an attempt to readjust her position, Sara winces slightly as she tries to pull herself to her feet.

"Here," I offer, reaching out to help her.

"I got it," Sara interjects into my efforts, her tone stopping my hand just before it makes contact with her arm.

Now standing before me, Sara shakes her head.

"I'm sorry, Cath," she offers quietly.

"It's alright," I tell her, trying to read her expression to figure out what the hell is going on. Not surprisingly, I don't get very far.

"What's going on, Sara?" I eventually ask, deciding to stop dancing around the issue and figure out what in the world is going on right now. Figure out what happened to make Sara so uncomfortable, so jumpy.

Sara's eyes turn dark, her gaze lowering. "Nothing. I, uh…"

She trails off, her body tense.

Looking her up and down, my eyes immediately stop when they reach her hands.

"What's going on, Sara?" I repeat purposefully, my tone indicating I am not messing around.

Furrowing her brows, Sara finally looks up at me. Seeing where my gaze is directed, she self consciously pulls her bloodied hand away. "It's fine…I…"

Again, she trials off, clearly unsure of what she wants to say to me and how.

I give her a moment, watching her inner struggle. Watching her assess her options, running through the consequences and implications of each one.

Finally, Sara shakes her head, breaking herself from her own thoughts. Placing her fingers on her temples, she takes a deep breath, forcing her eyes to meet mine.

"I need to talk to you, Catherine."

My heart rate increases at her words, at the statement I swore I would never hear come out of Sara Sidle's mouth.

"Alright," I tell her, trying to keep my voice steady, calm. "You can tell me anything, honey."

The words were meant to comfort her, to support her, but if anything she grows even more tense, her eyes jerking away.

"I think we should go inside for this."

If I wasn't nervous before, I certainly am now.

I gesture towards the front door with a nod. "Okay."

Taking the hint, Sara makes her way silently into the house. Once we are both inside, I take in Sara's pallor, her ghostly complexion. Whatever she has to tell me, she is definitely stressing out about it. Which, in turn, is tying my own stomach into knots. It takes a lot to make Sara nervous. And right now, she is definitely nervous.

"I am going to get changed. Why don't you put on some tea and I'll meet you back here in five minutes?"

Sara nods, grateful for the opportunity to get herself and her thoughts together.

As I enter our bedroom, I realize that my hands are shaking when I reach into the drawer to pull out some flannel pants.

"Pull it together, Willows," I chastise myself, quickly getting changed and splashing some water on my face in the master bath. Taking a breath, I look at my reflection. Forcing myself to bestow a confidence that I do not feel, I step back out and make my way to the living room.

Finding it empty, I enter the kitchen where Sara is leaning against the counter, two mugs sitting next to her.

"There was only peppermint left, I hope that's alright," Sara's voice is soft, and she is looking at me with an expression that can best be described as forlorn.

Stepping up to her, I reach over and take a mug. Not able to resist, I lean forward, placing my lips against hers. We kiss gently, softly, afraid to move too suddenly or too rashly. Afraid to break this peaceful moment, perhaps because neither of us is sure how long it will be until there are more moments like this after we have the conversation looming in the air.

I have no idea what is coming, but right now we are okay as a couple, we are at peace, and I think both of us want to be sure we appreciate it while we have it.

Gently running my free hand down Sara's side, I give her one last kiss before I step back, knowing that we are only delaying the inevitable. "You want to go to the other room?"

Sara shakes her head, her body growing rigid. "Here is fine."

I nod, pulling out a kitchen chair from the table and sitting myself down. Sara doesn't sit, but she adjusts her position against the counter so that she is in my line of sight.

"I need to tell you something about what happened after we got help in the desert," Sara says, her voice resigned. "And I'm sorry for not telling you sooner," she emphasizes genuinely, her eyes regretful as she forces them to remain on mine.

I slowly nod, somehow not expecting this topic to be the topic of the conversation. But then again, I don't really know what I did expect it to be.

Sending her a supportive smile, I remain silent.

"When I got taken to the hospital they did the surgery on my shoulder. When I woke up, they told me I had some other injuries."

Sara pauses, fingers tugging at the handle of her mug.

"You mean your leg?" I offer, trying to help her out.

Gaze lifting back up to meet mine, she sighs. "Not quite."

Clearing her throat, Sara works hard to maintain eye contact. "They, uh, they told me that I also had a couple cracked ribs and some internal bleeding, but that it should resolve on its own."

Sara stops, watching my face carefully, trying to gauge my expression.

Quite frankly, I would love to see my own expression right now as well. Particularly because I suddenly just feel numb. It's like my brain registered the words, but my body refuses to understand them.

"You…you have cracked ribs…and internal bleeding…" I shake my head, trying to order my thoughts. "How…why…they released you right after the surgery…"

Sara swallows, clenching her mug in her hands. "They didn't release me, Catherine. I left. I signed myself out AMA."

Shaking my head, I feel like someone just stole all the breath from inside me. I literally feel like I cannot breathe. "Sara…I…"

My eyes meet hers, and her gaze is heavy with emotion. Regret, remorse, anger, guilt, sadness.

"I am so sorry, Catherine."

I close my eyes, my hands falling to the table. I feel like I will never have the strength to lift them back up again.

"Why, Sara?" I question in a whisper. Opening my eyes, I fix them on her. "Why in the world…" I trail off, not able to finish my sentence.

Sara clenches her jaw, her eyes leaving mine briefly as she looks off somewhere to my left, her expression pained.

Finally, Sara sighs, returning her gaze to mine. When our eyes meet, I see her come to an internal decision.

Stepping up to the table, Sara pulls out a chair and sits across from me. Her head lowers, looking at the untouched tea still steaming in the mug between her hands.

"I left because I couldn't stay there, in that hospital."

Her voice is quiet, resigned. I know there is something more, something very important here that she is not saying, so for once I push.

"Why, Sara? Why couldn't you stay?"

Sara's eyes do not lift from her mug.

"Because I was afraid," she admits honestly.

She doesn't say anything more, her expression morphing into a mix between shame and defeat. I may be upset with Sara for what she did, but now isn't the time. Now is the time to address the two emotions that look like they are threatening to consume her. Sara Sidle, the woman that I love, has nothing in this world to be ashamed about, and absolutely nothing in this world, other than herself, could ever defeat her.

"What were you afraid of, Sara?" I question softly, voice surprisingly steady.

Sara's eyes dart to mine, "This isn't about me, Catherine, and what I was or wasn't afraid of. This is about my selfish decision to hide this from you. Something I never should have done. And now, maybe I am being even more selfish by telling you when you already have enough on your mind. I don't even know anymore."

Reaching out, I pull Sara's hands from her mug, grasping them tightly in mine.

"What were you afraid of, Sara?" I repeat, emphasizing every word, my eyes boring into hers.

Matching my gaze, Sara searches my eyes. I know she can see how much this means to me, how much I need this answer. Eventually, she clenches her jaw tightly and looks away.

"You know the type of house I grew up in, Catherine," she says quietly, her voice rough with emotion. "We ended up in the hospital a lot."

Hearing the struggle in her voice, I squeeze her hands tighter in mine. Letting her know that I am here and that I am not going anywhere, no matter what she tells me. My silence lets her know that I know there is more to this story. Much more. And that I want to hear the rest, if she is willing to tell me.

And, God, I pray that she is willing to tell me.

I know vague bits and pieces about Sara's past. I know that she grew up in an abusive household, her sister's death, that her mother killed her father and then killed herself. But I really don't know much more than that. I don't know any of the stories, any of the details. And, all you have to do is look into Sara's eyes, look at the scars on her body, to know that there _are _stories. And that there are a lot of them.

I usually never push, respecting Sara's privacy and her decisions regarding what she shares and what she doesn't, but I wish I knew my lover's history better. I wish I knew more than any person off the street reading a blurb about her life would know. I wish I knew what her family members were like, what she was like as a child, what her favorite subjects were in school, how she came to study at Harvard, what her experiences in foster care were like. I want to know everything. But, right now, I would gladly settle for knowing just this small fraction of her past.

"Please, Sara," I whisper.

Still not looking up, Sara's eyes bore into the table, her expression pained. I can tell she is fighting the urge to shut me out, to change the topic. She knows how much I want this, how rare it is for me to even ask for it, and Sara isn't the type to refuse me anything I ask of her.

No, Sara is the type of person who would be willing to pay whatever personal price necessary to give me the answer I so desperately seek. To put my needs, my wants, my desires before her own.

"I, uh, I would go to the hospital a lot as a kid," Sara starts, her pained voice confirming my thoughts. "Some of the doctors got suspicious about my injuries, and my past injuries. Most didn't bother to even go there, but a couple of them did. I always lied to them, told them I fell or got hurt playing soccer. If there was one thing I perfected as a child, it was lying. Which is probably why I hate it so much as an adult. I would lie to them all, and they all believed me. It's easier, and a hell of a lot more convenient, to believe that a kid is just clumsy. Less paperwork."

Sara takes a breath, her hands trembling in mine. "But one doctor didn't believe me, he wouldn't accept any of my bullshit answers. Dr. Lyndon. He kept pressing me, telling me he wouldn't take anything but the truth for an answer, that I could trust him. That he would get me and my brothers help. He told me how his parents used to hit him as a child, and how no child deserved to be treated that way."

A sad smile crosses Sara's face. "I thought this was finally it. This kind man was finally going to be the one to stop years of abuse, save my brothers and I from our wretched excuse of a home. So I told him. I told him everything, every last detail." Sara's voice grows low, hard. "And as soon as I finished, relieved tears still falling from my eyes, my parents walked into the room. My dad walks straight up to the doctor and shakes his hand. He _thanks_ him for helping him 'prove his suspicions'. Turns out my dad set me up, took me to a doctor he was friends with, went to high school with. He had gotten suspicious about all the other doctors that had been asking questions, wanted to see if his kids would turn on him. Wanted to see how safe our family secrets were and if he needed to be taking measures to prevent their revelation. I think it's safe to say I failed the test."

Sara's body grows rigid, her cold hands shaking so violently in mine that I almost lose my grip.

"I thought I was going to die, right then and there. I really thought my father was going to kill me. Turns out, there are better ways to teach a kid to keep their mouth shut than death. I was admitted to the hospital that evening to have the surgery on my broken leg. Somehow, there was a 'mix up', because when I woke up from surgery, I wasn't in the recovery unit. I was in the psyche ward. I spent the whole night there, restrained to my bed in a room full of adult psychiatric patients. About eight in the morning, Dr. Lyndon comes waltzing in, muttering something about a chart mix up and how he is going to get me back to my correct room. All he said to me on our way through the halls was, 'It's always shocking to me how hospital mistakes like that can so quickly become permanent, how easily a patient can simply become lost forever'. Dr. Lyndon became our primary physician, the perfect accomplice to my parents and their abuse. I can't tell you the number of times similar 'mix ups' happened to me while I was there. I woke up in psyche wards, in morgues, in every goddamn inconceivable place you could imagine. Dr. Lyndon always told anyone who asked about my absence that I had simply been taken for some scan or another. It was so easy, so simple. If you put up a fight against anything he did, you got sedated. You got sedated, knowing full well as the drugs pulled you under that you were going to wake up in his latest version of hell. Maybe you would wake up on an autopsy table in the hospital's former morgue. Or maybe alone in a hospital room, lines drawn across your leg in permanent marker and your medical chart placed conveniently next to your pillow with a bright red note on it saying 'Sara Caelum Sidle. Amputation of left leg, ER 3, 1:00'. It's amazing how terrifying something like that can be to a child, and how absolutely flawlessly it can all be carried out by a brilliant, respected doctor working in a hospital system that was too overcrowded and too disorganized to ever even glance your way."

Sara's eyes grow cold, her voice low. "So, no, I do not like hospitals. I do not like the smell, sight, feel, or thought of hospitals. And I especially do not like having to be taken into surgery at hospitals, to be put under. Call me a coward, but when I woke up from that surgery on my shoulder, I could not get out of there fast enough. I didn't give a shit what they were telling me, what other injuries I had, I just knew I had to leave, that I had to get the hell out of there. I checked myself out AMA and told you I had been released."

Sara's eyes finally raise to mine, the emotion there nearly incomprehensible.

Moving our joined hands towards me, I gently kiss her trembling fingers, keeping her hands locked tightly in mine.

"Thank you, Sara," I tell her. "I am so sorry, honey," I offer quietly, knowing that she doesn't want to hear pity or sympathy. Doesn't want me to offer reassurances, empty inspirational sentiments.

Sara watches me for a moment, finally shrugging slowly. "You wanted an explanation, Catherine. You _deserved_ an explanation from me."

She clears her throat, "But the reasoning behind my decision to leave the hospital doesn't make it alright for me to have kept my injuries from you, Catherine. I know that, and I'm sorry."

I look her in the eye, giving my own shrug. "You were afraid I would make you go back to the hospital if you told me how seriously you were hurt," I state simply.

Sara's eyes narrow briefly, perhaps surprised at my ability to have read her so well.

"Very rarely, Sara Sidle, I can figure you out."

Sara chuckles quietly at my words, her eyes getting some of their warmth back. "You've already figured out all the parts that matter," she confesses quietly.

Her response is a curious mix of confusing and reassuring. Shaking my head, I can only smile. "I'll take your word for it."

Getting serious, I try to push down the revelations of her past in order to focus on the present. But, to be honest, it's damn hard. I know Sara's past is dark, very dark, but to hear things like what she just shared…my God, it takes my breath away. There is no way I could have prepared myself for that.

The sick, evil and vile treatment she was subject to, it infuriates me – makes me want to hunt down each and every last person who ever laid a hand on her and make them suffer for what they put her through. No one should ever be treated that way, but especially not someone like Sara. Sara has the gentlest, kindest, and most giving spirit of anyone I have ever met, and I think it is an absolute testament to her strength and her inner character that she has gone through so much darkness and emerged with a soul that remained so pure.

I am pissed, I am sad, I am livid, I am about a dozen other things right now, and perhaps what is most disconcerting is that I'm sure the story she just told isn't even the worst of them. Isn't even close.

I wish I could go back in time, do something, do anything to save Sara from what she had to go through growing up. But, the past is the past, and I know the only thing I can do for her now is to try, to the best of my ability, to ensure that her present and her future are as beautiful as she deserves.

"You alright?" Sara asks, her voice cutting through my thoughts.

I nod, letting out a breath. "Yeah, sorry, just thinking."

Sara watches me with concern, not knowing whether to push the issue or not.

Sending her a reassuring smile, I squeeze her hands. "I'm okay, Sara."

She slowly nods, allowing my silent request to drop the issue. "Alright."

Taking a deep breath, I get back to the issue at hand, the reason we are even having this conversation. "You need to get proper medical care, Sara. I'm not going to force you to go back to the hospital, but we need to figure something else out. Those injuries are serious and you cannot ignore them. I will not _let_ you ignore them."

Sara takes her own deep breath, pulling back slightly but keeping our hands connected. "Nancy already worked something out for me, don't worry. I'll be getting looked at frequently, making sure everything is okay."

I search her eyes, not suspecting Sara to be lying to me, but also not sure she is telling me the whole truth either.

"I promise, Catherine."

Looking her over a moment more, I finally nod. "Alright. But please, Sara, you have got to tell me about things like this right away in the future. I think I do a good job of respecting your privacy on most things, but, babe, things like this are not something you can just keep to yourself."

Sara tightens her grip on my hands, "I know, Catherine. I know and I'm sorry, I really am."

Her jaw clenches, her features darkening. "I was just so ashamed of myself for not being strong enough to stay at that hospital. Then I was scared that if you knew you would make me go back. Then I was ashamed all over again about how scared I was by that idea."

She shakes her head, "I didn't want you to see me like that."

"Sara," I say, letting out a breath, "I would never judge you or think any differently about you for being scared, regardless of what you were scared about. You are human, sweetheart, and you have every right to be afraid just like the rest of us. Besides," I tell her with a shrug, "you could be scared of a vacuum cleaner and I would still consider you the bravest, strongest person I know."

Sara snorts, her expression warming with a genuine smile. "That's somehow reassuring and disturbing at the same time."

I laugh, squeezing her hands in mine.

The room returns to silence, and Sara keeps her gaze on mine, silently watching me. After a minute or two, her expression shifts, her eyes becoming troubled.

"Catherine, I want you to know that I trust you. I trust you with everything, with my life. I want you to know that me shutting you out had absolutely nothing to do with you. I know I can tell you anything, and you make it so easy to tell you anything. You are the best listener I have ever met. I don't want you to ever doubt yourself, or doubt my trust in you, because of stupid shit like this that I pull. I don't open up easily, especially about my past, and that's on me, not you." She pauses, her expression saddening.

"I want to let you in, Catherine. It's hard, and it's uncomfortable for me, going against everything that I know. But you deserve to be given everything that I have, every part of myself. And, I need to accept that that also includes my past. It's scary as hell, but there is no one else I would rather take the leap with."

I search Sara's face, her expression, her eyes. Seeing only honesty and devotion, I nod my head, feeling moisture gather in my eyes.

"Thank you. You have no idea how much that means to me. How long I've wanted to hear that from you, Sara Sidle."

I stop there, not trusting my voice nor my fragile grip on my emotions should I continue further.

Finally separating our hands, Sara reaches across the table and runs her fingers gently down the side of my face, stopping to tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear. She keeps her hand there a moment longer, simply allowing us this moment together.

Then, as she pulls away, I gently grab her wrist. "Let me clean this up for you."

Sara looks confused as I keep my grip on her tight and reach over to grab a damp towel off the counter. Turning her hand over, I gently work at wiping the blood from her knuckles.

Sara's expression shifts from confused to embarrassed. "You don't have to…it's really fine…"

"I know, but I want to," I tell her simply, my voice quiet as the emotion of this night settles in deep inside of me.

Sara doesn't reply, but she doesn't pull away either, allowing me to continue in silence.

"Are you in pain?" I finally ask, breaking the moment.

Sara looks at me, and I think it is clear to her that I am not talking about her hand.

"No," she replies, her voice nearly a whisper.

"Are you sure?" I repeat, pleading with her with my eyes to be honest with me.

"Yes, I'm sure," she tells me, her tone quiet but firm. Using her other hand to cover mine, she stills my motions and lowers our joined hands to the table.

"I'm sure," she repeats, her gaze unwavering.

"Okay," I breathe out, my emotions torn between relieved and upset. Relieved that she isn't currently in any pain from her injuries, but upset that she likely has been, at least on and off, since our return from the desert. And I had absolutely no idea what she has been going through physically all this time.

"Catherine," Sara chastises gently, her expression letting me know she is aware of exactly what it is I am thinking. "Stop."

"I'm sorry," I sigh, suddenly starting to lose my grip on my emotions, "I just love you so much, and I can't stand the idea that you are hurt…that you have _been_ hurt…and I had no idea…I wasn't there for you…to help you through it…"

"Stop," Sara repeats, this time more adamantly. Waiting until my eyes meet hers, she takes a breath. "You are kidding yourself, Catherine Willows, if you think you haven't helped me these past two weeks. Emotionally, physically…everything." Shaking her head, Sara's eyes are dark with emotion. "I couldn't have made it through these past weeks without you."

I let a small smile come to my lips, taking a breath of my own. "Feeling's mutual, Sara."

Sara nods in understanding, her gaze intense as she keeps her eyes fixed on mine, "I love you beyond words, Catherine. I am in love with everything about you. Never forget that."

I feel a slight blush coloring my cheeks at her words, at the emotion in her eyes. "Here I thought you just liked my ass."

Sara shrugs, "Your chest, actually."

Laughing, I gently kiss her fingers, breathing deeply now that some of the tense emotion has been cleared between us.

Standing slowly, Sara pulls the towel quietly from my fingers. "If you don't mind, I think I am going to go and take a shower."

I smile, sending her a nod, "Of course, go ahead."

Depositing the dishtowel on the counter, Sara steps up behind me on her way to the door.

"That wasn't a request for permission, Willows, that was an invitation."

Her voice is low, and so tortuously close to my ear. I feel her linger a moment more before stepping out of the room.

Suddenly, I find myself speechless, my body strangely frozen in place. Jerking myself out of my haze, I cannot get up out of my chair fast enough. Haphazardly depositing my tea somewhere in the vague direction of the sink, I make a beeline for the master bath.

An invitation like that needs absolutely no consideration nor repetition.

* * *

NANCY POV

Pacing back and forth across my living room, I wonder why the hell I decided to do what I did the other night. Why the hell I thought it was anything remotely resembling a good idea. I think the idea of cooking a tinfoil sandwich in the microwave is a better idea than this was.

Glancing out the front window for the thousandth time, I find that my driveway is still empty, the street dark as most of my neighbors have retired for the evening. Glancing at the clock on the wall and then at my watch, because the time between the two is going to be radically different of course, I curse under my breath.

She should have been here by now.

It's Friday night, but Saturday morning is not far away. Alright, fine, it's only ten at night, but still. I expected her to be here by now.

That is, if she was really planning on coming in the first place. Which, perhaps, is the real reason I am so nervous. I talked a big game the other night with Sara, threatening and manipulating her like it's a frequent hobby of mine. The truth is, I had so much anger and frustration when I made those threats that I gave very little thought to the possibility that I would perhaps actually have to follow through on them. Now that I am watching the ticking clock move ever closer to that prospect, I find myself growing in discomfort.

I meant absolutely everything I said to Sara. She had no right to keep what she did from me and Catherine. It was insulting and infuriating. Catherine has a right to know. Sara needs to be getting proper medical care. All of my thoughts and concerns are still valid, but I am definitely uncomfortable about the idea of having to follow through on my threats and be the one to rat Sara out to Catherine. Be the one that causes my sister to find out what has been going on from a random stranger instead of her partner and soulmate.

Sighing, I glance absently back outside to the driveway. This time, however, my breath catches in my throat as I see a dark vehicle parked on the street. Moving closer, I can make out that it is definitely Sara's car.

"Thank God," I mutter under my breath, waiting to catch sight of the brunette.

Just when I think Sara may have been the victim of alien abduction or spontaneous combustion, I see her step out from behind the Tahoe, putting out a cigarette with her shoe.

She hesitates a moment in the street, glancing absently up at the sky. I can see her hands fiddling with her car keys, the metal glinting in the moonlight. Glancing back at her car, she seems shake herself from her thoughts, lowering her head as she turns back around and crosses the street to make her way up my drive.

Hearing a soft knock on the door, I pull it open, moving aside as way of invitation. Stepping around me into the house, Sara remains standing near the entrance to the living room. Closing the door, I send her a look.

"I was beginning to think you weren't coming."

Sara nods quietly. "I was beginning to think the same thing," she admits.

We silently assess one another, our gazes locked and neither willing to back down. Finally, I shake my head, gesturing to the living room. "Shall we?"

Sara takes a breath, pushing her keys down into her jeans pocket. Sending me one last look, she makes her way into the living room, standing apprehensively by the coffee table as I follow her in.

Now standing in the living room, it seems our changing locations only succeeded in moving our staring contest from one part of the house to another. Letting out a sigh, I gesture to the couch.

"Why don't you take a seat, get comfortable," I offer, hoping to break some of the tension between us.

"I'd rather stand," Sara replies, her voice quiet. "If that's alright."

I nod, trying not to appear affected by her declination.

"That's fine," I say, clearing my throat. "But you're going to have to lose the shirt."

Sara stiffens, her eyes leaving mine to stare at the wall behind me, her expression on edge.

"I'm sorry," I offer quietly after a moment, to let her know that I understand that this is difficult for her, that I am not enjoying putting her through this, no matter how angry I may be with her.

Eyes moving back towards mine at my apology, Sara looks at me silently a few moments before she finally looks away again. Her hands move to the bottom of her t-shirt, hesitating there for a second or two before she takes hold of the material and lifts it over her head, laying the shirt over the armrest of the couch.

Stepping forward, I try to keep as much space between us as I can, but due to the necessity of the situation, it isn't much.

"I'm, uh, I'm going to check your shoulder first, work my way down from there, if that's alright with you," I propose softly.

"That's fine," Sara answers, her own voice tight and her eyes planted on the far wall.

Hearing her tone and seeing her tense expression, I absolutely hate this situation I am in. I hate doing this to my friend, I hate everything about it. But, I keep reminding myself, Sara is the one who put herself in this position, put both of us in this position.

Stepping slightly closer, I move so that I can see her shoulder better with the light. "The incisions look good," I state, talking out loud as I work. "No signs of infection, they seem to be healing nicely."

Taking her arm and gently testing her range of motion, I let the room revert to silence for a bit.

"Did you speak with Catherine?" I eventually ask, keeping my tone neutral and my eyes on what I am doing.

I feel Sara's own gaze shift from the wall to my face, watching my expression, searching it for something. I feel her take a breath under my fingers before returning her gaze to my crown molding.

"Yes, the other night, after the bar."

Her statement is so short and her tone is so neutral that I have absolutely no idea where her emotions are at regarding her conversation with Catherine. In fact, her tone, her body language, everything, has been so neutral, so carefully guarded since she walked in my house tonight that I really have no idea where her emotions are regarding anything at this point.

Sara is quiet, composed, and completely and absolutely unreadable.

"I'm glad," I eventually offer.

Her eyes darken slightly, the only noticeable change to her still tightly controlled expression. "I should have told her from the beginning, I was wrong to keep something like that from her. She deserves better."

Caught off guard by her statement, I am not sure what to say, my hands stilling their motion. Shaking myself out of my haze after a moment, I resume my actions.

"Okay," I reply simply.

Sara narrows her eyes slightly at my response, her body stiffening beneath my fingers.

After a few moments of silence, Sara slowly shakes her head. "I didn't ever disagree with you about Catherine deserving to know, Nancy. I wanted to protect her. I wanted to protect myself. I didn't want her to have one more thing to worry about right now. All of the above. But, I never disagreed with the fact that she, as the woman that I love more than anything on this planet, deserved to know."

Her eyes darken further, "But, what I _do_ disagree with, is being manipulated and blackmailed. About anything. But, especially about something like this. Something involving Catherine."

Once again, I stop my motions in surprise at her words, my hands hovering just above her collar bone.

Sara steps away from me slightly, turning her head so that her eyes are squarely on mine. "You want to manipulate and blackmail me, Nancy, that's one thing. But you involve Catherine in it, and that's something else entirely."

For the first time, I see a slight crack in Sara's carefully controlled emotions. There is anger in her eyes, still carefully tucked away beneath the surface, but it is definitely there.

She may be a study in tightly controlled anger, but I on the other hand feel my hands clench into fists as my own anger rises to the surface.

"I didn't do it because I wanted to, Sara. I did it because you left me no other choice."

Sara's expression darkens further, shadows falling across her features as she shakes her head, "Do you really believe that, Nancy? Do you really think that either one of us took the time to hear each other out, have a decent conversation, before threats were thrown back and forth?"

I stare at her, wide eyed, trying to form words to answer her question, to refute what she just said. But, after a moment, perhaps when I realize that she is right, I resort to shaking my head in frustration.

"So that's my fault, Sara? It's my fault that you are so damn private about everything that you leave those around you with no choice but to blackmail you for information? You're going to blame that on _me_?"

Sara's jaw clenches, her eyes flashing dangerously at my words. She starts to open her mouth to say something, but quickly clenches it shut, shaking her head darkly instead.

"No, Sara," I interject, "Go ahead and say what's on your mind. For once in your goddamn life."

The moment I have said it, I immediately regret the words that just came out of my mouth. They were cruel, they were harsh, and most of all, they were not fair.

"Sara-" I start, but she stops me with a raised hand. Turning away from me, she seems to be trying to calm herself, pinching the bridge of her nose as she takes slow and steady breaths.

The silence that permeates the room is so tense, so thick that I fear it may suffocate us both.

"Things have changed between us," Sara eventually states so quietly that I almost don't hear her, her voice shattering the silence, her back still to me.

The words may be quiet, but they cut right through my emotions and land somewhere deep inside my heart.

As soon as I hear them, comprehend them, my anger, my frustration, my regret, everything is suddenly gone – replaced by something much harder to cope with.

Acceptance.

Sadness.

Loss.

"That conversation we had at the bar? This conversation we are having now? This isn't us. Neither one of us. Things between us have changed, Nancy."

She turns around, her expression mostly unreadable, but her eyes clearly saddened. "I don't know exactly when or how, but they've definitely changed."

Her eyes search mine, looking for recognition, agreement. For evidence that what she is saying is something that I have been thinking myself, that she isn't the only one thinking such thoughts.

"Yes they have," I agree, finally letting out a deep breath, the fight leaking out of me to pool somewhere at my feet. "They most definitely have," I repeat in a whisper.

Letting out her own breath, Sara's dark eyes remain on mine.

"I'm sorry," she says, her expression just readable enough for me to see the sincerity, the pain, held there. "I am sorry for my part in this. I don't want to hurt you, Nancy. Not now, not ever. I'm sorry for threatening you back the other day, it wasn't right. And, more importantly, I'm sorry for putting you in that position in the first place. Catherine isn't the only one who deserved better."

Her hazel eyes are genuine, and I find all my remaining defenses crumbling down at her words. It's hard to respond to genuine honesty and kindness with anger and hostility. No, I think it's time for me to offer the brunette the same courtesy in return, to finally just be honest with her.

To stop hiding behind my anger, to quit playing games, and simply lay all my cards on the table.

"I was mad at you," I confess quietly, my eyes closing under the pain of my admission. "I was so mad at you. For not telling me about your injuries, for pulling away from me these past couple weeks, for being right about Chris, for everything."

I open my eyes and raise them to meet hers, knowing she deserves to be looked in the eye when I say these things. "I was mad at you for being so goddamn good to me, for being everything that I needed my best friend to be as I work through everything that happened with Chris. And, I think out of everything, I was the most upset at the fact that you never allow me to offer you the same in return."

I take a breath, trying to keep my voice even.

"Ever since the desert I can feel you pulling away from me, Sara, and it scares the shit out of me. I've been worried about what you are going through with all of this, what you are feeling and experiencing. I worry that you are hiding things, secretly resenting me, God only knows. When I found out about your injuries, found out you _were_ hiding things, I lost it. It was like all my fears starting to come true. I absolutely lost it, Sara, and I'm sorry. I was hurt, I was scared, and I ended up pushing you away just like you had been pushing me away. Maybe to teach you a lesson, maybe to force you to feel what it's like, maybe to protect myself. I don't know. But no matter the reason, it was immature, it was hurtful, and it was wrong. And I'm sorry."

Sara shakes her head, her brow furrowed and her eyes firmly on mine. "You do not have to apologize to me, Nancy. You have every right to feel anger, frustration, resentment, or whatever else towards me. You can't help how you feel, Nancy, and I'm not going to stand here and hold you responsible for how you chose to deal with those feelings. Not now, not ever." Sara searches my eyes, looking for my acceptance of her words.

Eventually, I nod, trusting that Sara is being honest with me. It doesn't really matter whether I agree with her words or not, ultimately I just have to respect them and honor them.

"Okay," I tell her softly. "Just know that I'm sorry."

She lets out a ghost of a smile. "I know."

Then, her expression grows serious, troubled. "About the other things you said. Nancy, I know I have said this before, but I don't resent you or blame you or anything for what happened. Please, you have to trust me on that."

She keeps her eyes firmly on mine, letting me see the honesty behind them.

Then, once she feels she has gotten her point across, that I believe her, her eyes leave mine and her expression shifts. Her discomfort is evident.

"I'm sorry for pulling away from you…I know that I have…I just…"

Her voice trailing off, Sara shakes her head, clearly frustrated. Clearly angry with herself, at her inability to go further.

Stepping forward, I move myself into her line of sight. "Stop, Sara. You don't have to say anything. You don't have to justify or explain anything to me."

Closing her eyes briefly before fixing them on me, Sara shakes her head. "Yes I do, Nancy. I owe you an explanation. I do…I just…"

Again, Sara trails off, her hands clenching into fists as her frustration with herself grows.

"You just don't trust me. Not anymore," I finish for her simply and honestly.

Eyes flashing to mine, Sara shakes her head, already starting to protest. "No, Nancy-"

Raising my hand, I cut her off.

Then, without warning, I reach out with my other hand towards her as if to take hold of her. Immediately, Sara jerks backwards, moving away from me so quickly and violently that the backs of her legs slam harshly into the coffee table behind her, rattling its contents.

Catching her balance, she straightens herself, her eyes wrought with emotion when they meet mine.

"You don't trust me," I repeat in a whisper.

Before Sara can reply, I again hold up my hand. With a sad smile, I shake my head. "It's alright, Sara," I tell her. "Honest."

Looking her in the eye, I take a breath. "I know there are things you aren't telling me. There are feelings you have towards me that you are struggling with, that you don't feel comfortable opening up to me about. Do I wish I knew what's been going on with you, with your feelings towards me? Of course. But I also respect you enough to give you the time and the space that you need right now. To leave it in your hands to come to me if and when you feel ready to talk."

Sara raises a shaky hand to her hair, her expression haunted.

"I'm sorry, Nancy," she gets out, her voice close to breaking. "God, I'm sorry."

"Shh," I tell her, stepping a bit closer but keeping a safe distance between us. "I'll still be here when you're ready, Sara. You have my word."

Searching my eyes, Sara finally nods her head slowly, her expression dark, her inner turmoil clearly displayed across her stark features.

Reaching over, I gently pull her shirt from its place on my couch. Holding it out to her, I send her a gentle smile.

"I'll talk to Catherine, teach her what she needs to do and what she needs to look for regarding your recovery. No reason she can't be the one to do this in place of me."

Eyes closing under my words, Sara silently takes the offered shirt from my hands, her head lowered.

After a quiet moment, she raises her gaze back to mine and she fixes me with a look. "We will talk, Nancy. That is a promise." Then, her expression shifting, she shakes her head, "I know I have no right to even say this, but I want you to know that in the meantime I'm still here for you. I care about you. Nothing changes that, Nancy. Ever."

My own expression warming, I send her a gentle smile. "I know."

Searching my eyes, Sara looks to see that I truly believe her, that I am not just placating her.

Seeing what she is looking for, she lets out a low breath. Pulling her shirt over her head, Sara lowers her gaze as she pulls her keys from her jeans pocket.

"I, uh, I can see myself out," she offers, her voice quiet.

I nod, "Alright, thanks."

She nods as well, moving silently to the door.

"Goodnight," I call quietly as she opens the door to step through.

Halting for a moment, she brings her eyes back up to mine. "Goodnight, Nancy."

Our gazes silently remain joined for a moment, sharing things that our words currently cannot. Then, breaking her gaze, Sara steps through the door, closing it quietly behind her.

Watching her walk to her car, I pray that Sara and I can find peace.

With each other.

With ourselves.

* * *

**AN: Thank you all for reading. Thoughts and comments, as always, are welcomed and appreciated.**


	24. Chapter 24

**AN: Hope you are all doing well. Thank you a thousand times over to those who reviewed the last chapter. You each helped keep the motivation and the inspiration coming as I work towards finishing up this story. Much appreciation.**

**Take care and enjoy.**

* * *

CATHERINE POV

Hearing the front door open, I look up and smile when I see Sara step into the house.

"Hey, hon," I greet, putting my book down across my lap. "Welcome home."

Looking up at me, Sara sends me a warm smile before placing her keys on the desk. "Thanks. How was your day?"

"Good," I tell her, remembering the relatively slow night we had during shift.

"Yeah?" Sara responds, moving silently behind me and leaning over the back of the couch to place a soft kiss on my cheek from behind.

I nearly moan at the feeling of her lips so close to my ear.

Turning my head, I angle myself so that our lips can meet, my hand moving up to place itself in Sara's soft hair. Sara deepens the kiss, her own hands making their way down towards my neck.

Just as our tongues are getting reacquainted and entering into a battle for dominance, our hands beginning to roam southward, Sara pulls slightly away. Fixing her dark eyes on mine, the desire encapsulated there is clear to read.

"I'm going to go get changed," she whispers, a playful smile on her lips.

"Are you serious?" I question squeakily, my voice laden with disbelief. "Now?"

Sara's smile only grows as she straightens up and takes a step back towards the bedroom. "Yup."

When she turns around and starts walking away I groan aloud. "Sara Sidle, I could kill you!"

I can hear Sara chuckle as she disappears into our room.

Much too aroused to simply return to my book, I shake my head in frustration. The other day I walked in on Sara brushing her teeth in the bathroom. Stepping up behind her, I placed my hands in some very intimate places, leaning forward to whisper seductively in her ear. "Oh, babe, thank God…" I had whispered, then I waited a pause, watching her wide, desire-ridden eyes meet mine in the mirror, "Thank God, you found my nail polish." Then, I grabbed said nail polish from the counter and promptly walked out of the bathroom, no doubt leaving her shocked, bewildered, and very very frustrated.

I can only groan now, realizing that payback really is a bitch.

Hearing her reenter the living room, I look up and am about to admit my undying regret and apologies for teasing her the other day when I burst out laughing instead.

Quirking a brow, Sara simply sits across from me on the couch.

"You have the most ridiculous t-shirts," I tell her, not able to take my eyes off the current one that accompanies her boxer shorts.

Sara only furrows her brows slightly, looking down at her shirt with a shrug.

"It's not even accurate!" I add, taking in the sight before me. "_'Shake your A for GA'_? That's not even what the state of Georgia looks like." I state, pointing to the squiggly outline that looks more like electrocuted shrubbery.

"Hmm," Sara hums, looking down at her shirt with a raised brow. "It's a good thing 'GA' doesn't stand for Georgia then, isn't it?"

I raise my own brow, "Then what does it stand for, dare I ask?"

"Golgi apparatus."

I close my eyes, tightening my lips in an attempt to maintain a neutral expression.

"Of course it does."

Then, I can't help it as I burst out laughing yet again.

"You are so damn lucky I have a soft spot for nerds," I state after I somewhat compose myself.

Sara snorts, a smile playing at her lips.

"Sexy, gorgeous, sensitive nerds."

At that, Sara all out laughs, rolling her eyes at me.

"Now, Sidle, get your nerdy ass over here," I request, feeling that she is sitting entirely too far away from me.

Leaning over, Sara simply wraps her arms around me and pulls me effortlessly over to her side of the couch, arranging our bodies so that I am snuggled between her legs, my back resting against her as she wraps her arms around my waist from behind.

"That works, too," I say softly, closing my eyes as she places gentle kisses into my hair.

"Good," she hums, holding me tightly and laying her chin gently atop my head where it rests against her chest.

I think it is this moment, simply laying together in silence, held close in Sara's arms, that I realize things are truly going to be okay. That the world can conjure up all the hellish scenarios, all the hellish circumstances, all the Christian Dane's that it pleases. It can conjure the devils until its heart content, because as long as I have Sara, I have everything I need to turn and face each and every one of those demons.

There may be fallouts, physical and emotional scars, collateral damages, but as long as I have her, I have everything.

I have absolutely everything.

* * *

NANCY POV

"I think the hospital or the EPA might take some issue with your current treatment of their resources."

Glancing up with a raised brow, I assess the girl sitting next to me. Then, shrugging, I toss another wooden tongue depressor at the trashcan located on the other side of the room. Like most of the others before it, it clangs loudly against the metal can before falling to the ground.

"Not to mention the NBA."

Finally letting out a bit of a smile, I shake my head, clicking the two wooden sticks remaining in my hands together.

"Aren't you supposed to be cheering me up? Telling me I'm not going to die or something? Cause, honestly, you're doing a crappy job of it."

Snorting, I send her a look, "You're not going to die."

Laughing, my companion grabs one of the sticks from my hand. "Thanks, I feel much better now."

I shake my head, letting the room fall to silence. After about a moment I hear a sigh from the bed next to me.

"Really, Nancy, what's bothering you? Every night you come into my room like this annoying ball of sunshine that I want to vomit in the sight of. But really, I think I am realizing that the alternative is actually much harder to stomach. What's up?"

Letting out a breath, I finally turn to face her. "You're right, Morgan. I'm sorry." Shaking my head at myself, I am suddenly disgusted by my behavior. "You're my patient, I'm supposed to be helping you out. Not moping around like some idiot. How are you doing?"

Rolling her eyes, Morgan sends me a look that is well beyond her fifteen years of age. "Please. People walk around me like I'm going to shatter into a billion pieces if the slightest thing doesn't go as planned or goes awry. I have cancer, but it doesn't make me some piece of fine china. Quite frankly, I'm sick of all the bullshit, all the fake smiles people plaster on their faces when they walk in my room. All the cheery platitudes they think sound convincing, when all they're really doing is convincing me just how bad off things really are. So no, please, for once, let me listen to someone else's screwed up life?"

Looking her over, I see the earnest honesty in her eyes. I see the desperation to be treated like just another person, not like a girl with stage four Hodgkin lymphoma.

Letting out a breath, I pull my chair closer to her bed. "Fine, but it's really lame."

She snorts, "If it involves you, I have no doubt."

Poking her with my remaining tongue depressor, I roll my eyes. "Yeah, well this is really lame, even for me."

Morgan simply shrugs, silently waiting for me to get on with it.

"I, uh, I think I chased away my best friend," I tell her simply, tapping my leg anxiously with my fingers.

"Okay…why?"

Looking up at her, she sees my confusion.

"Why do you think you chased her away?" she clarifies.

"We had a bit of a disagreement. She said she would come talk to me, but she hasn't."

"How long has it been?"

"Five days."

Morgan slowly nods her head. "And you're afraid, since it has taken this long, that she isn't ever going to come and talk like she said she would?"

"Yeah," I sigh.

"Why don't you go talk to her instead?"

I shake my head sadly, "She isn't the type to respond well to that. I spoke my peace to her already, she knows where I stand. Now I'm just waiting for her to open up to me, let me know where _she_ stands."

"She told you she would talk to you. Has she ever broken her word to you before?"

"Never."

Morgan shrugs, "Then it sounds to me like she just needs some time."

"Yeah," I sigh. "I guess I'm just not very good at waiting."

"Because you miss her," Morgan states. "You miss her and with each passing day that you don't hear from her, it makes you feel more and more like you may have lost her for good. And that scares you."

Looking up, I furrow my brows. Morgan simply looks back at me, her eyes confidently meeting mine.

"I thought teenagers were supposed to be idiots," I say, shaking my head and my mouth pulling into a smile.

"Most are," Morgan simply replies.

Then, after a moment, she angles her head slightly to the side. "She'll come around, Nancy. Just be patient."

I nod slowly, reaching out to squeeze Morgan's hand in my own. "Thank you, Morgan," I tell her. "Really."

She shrugs, "My only request in return is that you keep me updated with what happens. This friendship drama you've got going on is the most excitement I've had all week. And I'm going to want details."

I laugh, giving her hand a final squeeze before pulling away. "You have my word."

Morgan smiles, looking genuinely excited for the first time all night.

"Now," I state, clearing my throat, "Hand me that remote before we miss our show."

Morgan tosses me the remote, shaking her head as she does so. "I swear to God, Nancy, if you ever tell anyone that I watch this crap with you I will make you eat every one of my 'Tuesday surprise's for the next month."

"Mmmm," I say, inwardly cringing at the idea of eating the awful concoctions the hospital cafeteria comes up with on Tuesdays. I am half convinced they use the day to get rid of all of the leftover food from the previous week, whipping it all into one giant medley of horrors.

Morgan laughs at my expression, then turns her attention to the television in the corner of the room as it comes to life.

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone that you are a huge sci-fi nerd," I promise her. "As long as you don't tell anyone where you got your hands on these…"

Reaching under my chair, I pull out a box of her favorite movie snack – chocolate covered mints.

"Oh my God," she nearly yells when she sees what I am holding, her eyes widening in disbelief. "Are you serious?"

Nodding, I toss her over the candy.

"I can't believe you remembered," she states quietly, staring at the box of candy now in her hands. "You are the best, Nancy."

"Yeah, yeah," I tell her with a snort, "Now move over before I break a butt cheek in this chair."

* * *

NANCY POV

As it turns out, Morgan was right. I simply had to be patient with Sara.

Pulling into my drive two nights after my talk with Morgan, I see a dark figure sitting on the steps of my porch.

Opening my car door, I cast a curious glance at the figure as I ascend the drive, relaxing when the shadows shift enough for the person to come into view.

There, sitting on my porch steps, is none other than Sara Sidle. She looks a curious combination of anxious and exhausted, silently watching me as I step up in front of her.

"Hey," I offer quietly, looking down at Mesa who is sleeping comfortably with his head resting in Sara's lap.

"Hey," Sara responds, her eyes fixed on mine before she finally looks away.

Clearing her throat, she glances down towards the ground. "I, uh, I came by to see if you wanted to talk. But it's late, so I understand if you are too tired or want to head to bed."

She looks back up at me, her eyes hard to read in the deep shadows.

"No, now is fine. I'm sorry, my shift ran a bit late tonight. If you want to do this another time, though, I understand. I hope you weren't waiting out here this whole time."

Sara shakes her head, "No, I came by about an hour after your shift normally ends. I was going to leave when I saw you weren't home yet, but then…"

Sara trails off, shaking her head at herself.

"But then you realized what it could mean that I still wasn't home yet. You waited to make sure everything was okay and that I made it home alright."

Sara lets out a breath, not bothering to reply.

"Thank you," I tell her honestly.

Looking up, she sees the honesty in my eyes – sees that I feel nothing but appreciation for her gesture.

Nodding, she looks around her.

After a few moments of silence, I gesture to the front door. "You want to come inside?"

Sara looks at me and then at Mesa in her lap. "You don't mind? We can stay out here…"

Shaking my head, I ascend the steps and step behind her to unlock the front door. "That dog is better behaved than most of my human guests. Mesa is welcome anytime."

Sara smiles slightly, gently nudging Mesa awake as she stands. Mesa looks around him curiously, offering me a soft wag of his tail in greeting when he sees me. He remains quietly at Sara's side, entering the house only when she does. Closing the front door, I gesture to the living room.

"I'll put on some coffee."

Sara nods, quietly making her way further into the house.

Using the moment alone in the kitchen, I take a couple deep breaths as I pull two mugs from the cupboard. Now that Sara has finally decided to talk with me, I can't help but feel apprehensive about what the talk itself will bring. I have no idea what Sara has come to say to me, and it could really be anything at this point.

Filling the mugs, I take one last deep breath and head out into the rest of the house. Entering the living room, I see Sara standing by my bookshelf, eyes looking over the titles present. Mesa has found himself a spot against the wall to resume his slumber, quietly breathing in and out with his tail curled around his face.

"See anything you like?" I ask.

My voice clearly startles Sara as she quickly turns around to face me, "What?"

"The books, see anything you like?"

Glancing back at the shelf, Sara looks again at the titles as if seeing them for the first time. It's clear to me that, although she appeared to be looking at the books before, her mind was definitely elsewhere.

"Yes," Sara replies, "Especially your choices of poetry."

I nod, surprised that Sara has even heard of some of the more abstract and eclectic poets I have gracing my shelves. But, then again, this is Sara Sidle we are talking about – the girl probably already read them all from cover to cover. In the fourth grade.

"You want to sit?" I offer, not really knowing what else to say.

Sara nods, moving closer into the room to sit in a chair opposite the couch. I take my own seat on the couch, reaching across the coffee table between us to hand Sara her mug.

"Thanks," she says, tentatively taking a sip.

"Sure."

Neither of us says anything more, both silently drinking our coffee and Sara looking everywhere but at me.

Finally, the brunette rubs her temples with her free hand.

"I'm sorry, Nancy."

Furrowing my own brows, I put my coffee down. "For what?"

"For my behavior these past weeks. I know I apologized to you before, but I want you to know I really am sorry for the way I acted towards you, the things I said."

Her eyes are now fixed on mine, her pale cheeks making their colors all the more striking.

"I know, Sara," I simply say, knowing that in the end it's all she really needs to hear from me.

Sara watches me, nodding slowly. Then, she takes a deep breath, refocusing her thoughts. "I came here tonight to have the conversation that I promised you."

She grows quiet, eyes lowering to her coffee. I don't say anything, simply sitting silently, waiting for her to take the lead and proceed however she wants.

"I haven't been myself lately, Nancy," Sara eventually admits, shaking her head. "And, quite frankly, I'm struggling to even find that person anymore, to hold on to her when each and every day she just seems to get further and further away."

Taking a breath, Sara raises her eyes back up to mine, tapping her fingers against the rim of her mug. "Ever since my suspension, I feel like I have been slowly losing my mind. The first couple days were hard, not going into work, not being able to do the job that I love, having nothing but my own thoughts to keep me company. Now, it's been nearly a month." Sara takes a breath, "Which, if nothing else, is not a good sign for the IA investigation. If I lose my job, I will probably never get hired anywhere as a CSI ever again. And I don't know if I can handle that. Hell, if I have barely been able to keep my sanity these past weeks, I loathe to think what a lifetime of this would be like."

Hearing her admission, I take a deep breath, closing my eyes briefly as I take in her words. All this time, I have been taking for granted what Sara has been going through. In the light of everything that has happened, somehow I never gave much thought to what something like a suspension would do to someone like Sara.

"I'm sorry," I tell Sara honesty. "I never even thought about what these past weeks must be like for you. To see both Catherine and I head back to work, resuming our lives and moving on from everything while you are stuck - stuck with not only a lengthy suspension, but the possibility of losing your job altogether." I shake my head, "I know how important your work is to you, Sara. And I'm sorry that you are in this situation, and I'm sorry that I didn't notice-"

Shaking her head, Sara cuts me off. "You have nothing to apologize for, Nancy. The only reason I am telling you this is because I owe you an explanation. Not because you owe me an apology."

I nod, a small smile coming to my face. "I know, but I'm sorry all the same. These past weeks I have been thinking that perhaps some time off of work would do you good, force you to take a break and relax. But, quite frankly, I'm realizing now that I am an absolute idiot."

Sara lets out a small smile of her own. "Yeah, I don't really do well with solo days off. Not to mention 26 of them. In a row."

I nod, letting a few moments pass before I ask, "Is that why you have been so on edge lately?"

Sara shrugs, eyes focused on her coffee. It's clear that there is a lot she isn't saying.

Eventually, Sara sighs, gently swirling the coffee in her mug. "When I have time to myself, I like to run. Not just to stay healthy physically, but also to stay healthy mentally."

Sara doesn't say anything more, her eyes avoiding mine at her admission, her gaze focused on the wooden table between us.

I furrow my brows slightly, but then, before I can open my mouth to speak, her point suddenly becomes clear to me.

"And now you not only don't have work, you also don't have running."

Sara finally looks up, letting out a breath as she meets my eyes. "Yeah."

"You've tried," I state, not posing it as a question. "More than once."

Despite her doctors' strict orders to replace her runs with walks for the next couple months due to the damage to her leg, not to mention her other injuries that are still healing, I know with certainty that Sara has disobeyed their orders.

"Yeah," she admits, her eyes not leaving mine.

"And it has gone poorly, from what you are saying?"

Sara shakes her head, "It's gone worse than poorly."

I shake my own head, "I'm sorry," I state quietly. Sighing, I run a hand through my hair. "I don't know what to say, Sara. As a healthcare professional, I can't pretend to support you pushing yourself way too hard with the injuries you still have. But, as your friend, knowing how important this is to you, I want nothing more than to support you in your attempts to resume running again. I don't know what the right thing to say here is, the right way to approach this."

Sara keeps her eyes on mine, "I guess it depends on whether you want to approach it as my healthcare professional or as my friend."

Her eyes search mine for a moment before she lowers them back down with a shrug. "It doesn't really matter anyway, seeing as how I can't run for shit regardless of your choice of approach."

"I'm sorry, Sara," I repeat, feeling like the sentiment is so inadequate.

Sara sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I just hate feeling like this. So limited. So weak," she confesses quietly. Then, she shakes her head, pulling herself from her current train of thought, raising her eyes to mine. "Look, I'm not telling you this for pity or whatever. Things are how they are. I'll deal with it. I just wanted you to know the place that I am coming from lately. I know I have been short tempered and frustrated, snapping back at you when I should have just walked away. I wanted you to know that my frustration, my anger, has not been with you, Nancy. It's been with myself, my own stupid shit. And I'm sorry."

Closing my eyes, I let out a breath. "Sara Sidle, stop apologizing to me. With everything going on in your life right now, you have every right to be frustrated, short tempered. And, let me tell you, your version of 'frustrated' is still more pleasant and gentle than most people are on their best of days." I take a breath, "I really am sorry that I had no idea about any of this. I should have tried harder to get you to open up, to talk about what's been going on in your own life. But," I sigh, "I guess I was too busy getting frustrated with you than figuring out how to help you."

I shake my head, opening my eyes to fix them on her. "I'm sorry, Sara. I really am. You have always been there for me, and you have been an absolute Godsend to me with everything I have been going through because of Chris. And I did nothing but leave you to deal with your own repercussions from Christian Dane by yourself. Your suspension, your injuries. I did nothing."

Sara's eyes grow dark, her expression twisting into a near grimace. "How could you have helped me, Nancy? How could you have helped me when I have done nothing these past weeks but push you away? When I changed the topic every time you tried to ask me how I was doing, when I gave you one word answers to any questions more prying than what type of cereal I wanted for breakfast. How could you have helped me when I was too busy being so fucking selfish that I failed to even consider your feelings? When I didn't give a shit about anything but my own agenda?"

Suddenly, Sara pushes herself to a standing position. Stepping away, she turns her back to me, placing her hand atop her head while taking slow breaths, clearly trying to keep her emotions under control.

Furrowing my brows, I hesitantly get to my own feet.

"Sara?" I question. Confusion, concern, and about a dozen other unidentified emotions start to rise up in response to her previous words.

"I pushed you away these past weeks, Nancy," she mutters, her back still to me, her voice strained. "And I did it on purpose."

Finally, Sara turns back around to face me, her eyes heavy with conflicting emotions. "You told me the other day that you knew there were things that I wasn't telling you, that I was pulling away from you. You were right, but you didn't know that I was doing it on purpose. That I made a conscious decision to shut you out of my life."

I close my eyes under the weight of her revelation, of what it could mean. For me, for our friendship.

"Why?" I whisper, forcing my eyes to open, to meet hers.

"Because I am a coward," she gets out, her words nearly vibrating with tension.

Sara looks like she is fighting an internal battle regarding how to proceed, and she eventually drops her eyes from mine.

"I'm a coward, Nancy," she repeats quietly.

I don't know what to say, standing here in my living room absolutely void of conscious thoughts or the basic ability to form words. Seeing my struggle, Sara takes a breath, eyes appearing almost defeated as she resigns herself to the conversation she is about to have, the conversation and the explanations she promised she would give me.

"Before, when I wouldn't let you close to me, when I would push you away when you would ask how I was doing with everything. It wasn't because I was angry with you, it was because I was scared. You always care so deeply about me, always concerned about how I am. I promised myself long ago, Nancy, to never need anything from anyone. To never trust others, _especially_ those that pretend to care. Because those are the people that have the greatest ability to hurt you. When I was a kid I got betrayed time and time again by those in my life who 'cared about me'. So, I made a promise to myself back then that I would never let people have the power to hurt me like that ever again. That I would never _need_ people in my life – that way I wouldn't be affected when they betray me, hurt me, abandon me, whatever."

She takes a breath, rubbing her hands against her bare arms.

"I got scared, Nancy, because I came to realize just how much I _do_ need you in my life. I cannot tell you how terrified I was when I found out who Chris really was. When I realized that you were in that cabin alone with him. I honestly thought I was going to lose you that day, that perhaps I already had lost you. Once everything with Chris was over, when I had a chance to sort out my emotions and all that happened, I suddenly realized that my promise to myself, kept all these years, had, without my even noticing, been shattered to pieces."

She takes a breath, trying to steady herself, her eyes filled with so many emotions that I nearly have to look away.

"I think of you as my family, Nancy," she confesses quietly. "You are like a sister to me. And that scares the shit out of me, for so many reasons. My actual sister, Addison, was my best friend…and then she died. My family fell apart. My whole world fell apart. Now, with you and Catherine, I find myself starting to feel like I finally have some sort of family again. And I am absolutely terrified."

Wrapping her arms around herself, Sara directs her tense gaze out my front window into the night.

"After the desert, I pulled away from you at first because I was caught so off guard by my feelings towards you. That somewhere along the line, without my even realizing it, you had become family to me, someone I love and care so deeply about. I think I was shocked at how low my defenses had gotten to allow such a relationship to develop with you, and so my knee jerk reaction was to throw those defenses back up – to resume protecting myself the way that I had always done, the way I had promised myself to always do."

Sara shakes her head, her gaze still angled out into the dark night, her features nearly hidden in the shadows cast by the streetlights.

"But I knew I was being a jerk– cutting you out of my life because I was some scared little child. I was ashamed with myself, my selfish behavior. I realized I was hurting you in an effort to protect myself. So, I told myself to suck it up and be an adult, knowing that if I got burned in the end that I could, and would, handle it. But, when I really thought about it, thought about the ways I was shutting you out, I discovered that I wouldn't be doing anything differently if I wasn't trying to keep you at arms length. I thought about the times when you asked me how I was and I simply responded that I was fine. And then I asked myself if I would answer any differently if I wasn't trying to shut you out. And the answer was no." She pinches the bridge of her nose with her fingers, "I understood in that moment that I am the same type of friend to you whether I am purposely shutting you out or not. And, the moment I realized it, I felt disgusted."

Sara angles her gaze further out into the night, her head lowering slightly. "I know now that I am never going to be the type of friend that you deserve, Nancy. You have told me many times in the past that you get upset with me because you want me to let you in, to accept that you care about me and come to you when I need help. But I normally am reserved and closed off. I am normally not going to want to accept help from you, I am going to retreat inward, going to want you to leave me alone when your nature is going to make you want to step in and help. You are frustrated now, and yet I cannot promise you things will ever get better. And I also cannot promise you that things won't ever get worse."

She clears her throat, her voice rough with strain. "My thoughts changed rapidly from my needing to pull away to protect myself from you, to my needing to pull away to protect you from me. To stop leading you on, to stop pretending like I can ever be the type of friend that you want or need. I knew that I was being selfish, that my inability to open up to you was what was costing you a friendship that you deserve to have. But, Nancy, when I think about letting you in, that idea alone takes the cake of what I am afraid of."

Her voice lowering, Sara finally turns back around to face me. Her eyes are dark, her expression nothing short of haunted. "If these past weeks I have had alone to really think have taught me anything, I have been reminded of the fact that I have so much darkness inside of me, Nancy. That my default personality isn't the calm, gentle person you seem to be so convinced that I am. When it's just me and myself, no job or outside distractions to hide behind, there is an anger, a bitterness, a violence, that all rages inside of me. I have already stooped so low these past weeks, made decisions I thought I would never make again, promised myself I would never make again. But I did, and as I did so I was reminded not only of the type of person I was before coming to Vegas, but I was made aware of the fact that that is the person I still am underneath it all. And, God help me Nancy, I don't want to bring that person anywhere near you. I saw the nightmares you had after Chris, the nightmares you still have, and I all I could think about as I sat there at your bedside is how I would try to do anything in my power to keep the darkness this world possesses far away from you. But how can I do that, Nancy, when I feel like I am nothing but darkness myself? Sometimes I feel like I am self destructing, on the verge of losing my mind, and I desperately don't want to drag you down that path with me. You are the most kindhearted ad pure intentioned person I have ever met, Nancy, and I don't want to do anything to mar the beautiful soul that radiates in you. I am genuinely terrified of what my really, truly opening up to you would do to you. The filth and ugliness it would bring into your life. I don't think you know what you are asking for when you ask me to let you in, Nancy. I don't think you can envision the potential fallout and consequences you could face because of it."

Sara shakes her head, lowering it so that it obscures most of her features in darkness.

"I don't know what to do here. I hurt you either way, whether I let you in or not. But, I have been trying to pick the lesser of the two evils by pulling away. At first I did it as a gut reaction to protect myself after I realized just how close I have gotten to you, let you get to me. But, after having some more time, some moments alone with my true nature, I know that the person I need to be worried about protecting is you. I just, I just don't want you to think that my pulling away from you is because of anything you did or anything that happened in the desert. It's because of me, Nancy. And while I do not have any answers about what the hell to do about all of this, I figured the least I could do was give you an explanation as to why recently I haven't been the friend you used to know nor the friend you deserve to have. I owed you the explanation that I promised you."

She grows quiet, leaving the room filled with the sound of the wind winding its way through the trees outside, rattling at the windows as a storm no doubt gathers in the air. Stepping hesitantly closer towards her, I find myself shaking my head.

"I don't think you are a coward, Sara. I think you are a hypocrite."

Sara doesn't say anything, her head bowing lower under the weight and the sting from my words. I know she will remain quiet, feeling that she has said her peace and now owes me the right to say mine – whatever it is and however much it hurts.

"I think you are a hypocrite and that you are presumptively ignorant. You say you have the potential to bring shit into my life? Well, what about everything I have already brought into yours? I put you in a position where you had to _kill_ someone for me, Sara. And, whether you admit it or not, that event started you down this dark path with your suspension and your injuries that left you with nothing but your own dark thoughts to keep you occupied day after day. You can't have it both ways, Sara. You can't take the blame for every potential moment of darkness brought into my life, unless you also then give me the blame for some of the darkness currently in yours. And you can't be presumptively ignorant enough to presume to know what is best for me. To know what would hurt me less. Because, I can tell you right now that you made the wrong decision on that one. You think that you are protecting me from the hurt of what the true side of yourself would bring into my life. But, instead, you are giving me the daily torment of knowing that my own best friend will never open up to me, will never let me in. That she will continue on through this life essentially a stranger to me, picking and choosing what in her life I am privy to. That, when all is said and done, I will know as much about my own best friend as any random acquaintance would know. You're not a coward Sara, but neither am I. If you think that I couldn't handle anything you would ever open up to me about, then you don't know me at all. And, even if you don't believe me, I think it's irrelevant anyway. I feel that this serves as your official warning about what your letting me in could potentially result in for myself. Consider me warned. Now, I think the decision should be up to me whether I am willing to accept those risks or not. And, I think it's really sad that you truly believe I wouldn't or shouldn't be willing to take that risk for you."

I sigh, my voice softening as my anger morphs into desperation. "Sara, I need for you to learn that it's not alright for you to be the only one suffering or sacrificing for those that you love. And, more importantly, that the world won't end if sometimes those around you share some of your life's burden. That, really, the biggest honor you could offer us is the opportunity to help you, to know you, and to love you."

Sara's gaze is still directed towards the ground, but I can tell from the set of her shoulders that it is taking everything she has right now to keep herself together.

Finally, Sara moves to place her head in her hands, her dark hair falling against her pale fingers.

"I don't deserve you."

If it weren't for the couple of steps I took closer to her earlier, I don't think I would have heard the words she just whispered.

But I did.

Closing the final distance between us, I wrap my arms around her. Holding her tight, I simply rub my hand along her back as I feel her begin to shake with silent sobs.

"Let it out, Sar. Let it all out."

Sara buries her face further in her hands, deep anguished sobs ripping through her as she struggles to maintain control.

"It's alright, Sara. Let it out, honey."

I hold her tighter, desperate for her to, for once in her life, finally start letting go of some of the endless things she keeps bottled up inside. No one deserves this opportunity to breakdown more that Sara. After all that she has been through this past year alone, all that she continues to go through on a daily basis, all that she has gone through in her past, I can only imagine the daily struggle she must face to keep everything so neatly tucked away. To keep herself so calm and controlled on the outside so that no one would ever suspect what lies beneath it all on the inside.

Hearing Sara's strangled cries, I bow my head as I hold the tormented brunette that I love so dearly tightly in my arms, wishing that I could protect her from the world. Or, perhaps more usefully, protect her from herself.

As Sara moves one of her hands from her face to tentatively place it against my shoulder in a trembling and desperate fist, I feel a bittersweet smile come to my lips.

Maybe, just maybe, Sara is finally allowing herself to accept some of the comfort I have futilely tried since the day I met her to offer.

* * *

**AN: As always, thank you for reading. Thoughts and comments are welcomed and appreciated.**


	25. Chapter 25

**AN: Thank you to all who reviewed last chapter – very very very much appreciated.**

**It is with a mixture of feelings that I announce that this is the final chapter of this story. As with my first story, I debated a bit about where to end things, but in the end I stuck with my original plan and have decided that this is going to remain the closing chapter. I want to thank you all for all of your kind words and support throughout this story, as well as the story before this. Your kind words for both of them are what help keep me writing, and definitely what keep me posting what I write. Thank you all, I really cannot express how much your support has meant.**

**Without further ado, I hope you enjoy this final chapter. **

**Take care.**

* * *

NANCY POV

Tapping lightly on the door, I look around me, taking in the neighborhood still mostly enjoying their last hours of sleep before rising for another work day. Seeing my sister's Tahoe in the drive, I suspect that she is doing exactly the same.

Hearing the front door creak open, I turn my attention back to the mission at hand.

Seeing me, Sara glances quickly back into the house before stepping out onto the porch and closing the door quietly behind her.

"Nancy?" she questions, her voice concerned, eyes looking me over anxiously. "What's wrong?"

I smile at her words, hoping my relaxed expression will put her at ease. "Nothing. I'm here to pick you up, actually."

Sara's eyes shift from concerned to….well, a different type of concerned.

"Pick me up?" she asks, her eyes narrowing. "Pick me up for what?"

"I can't tell you that, it's a surprise. But I think you will like it. Promise."

Sara raises a brow, casting a tentative glance back towards the house.

"Don't you have work?" she asks, likely trying to avoid the whole idea of a surprise entirely. Something tells me Sara isn't one to particularly care for surprises. No, actually, I think she is the type to absolutely loathe surprises.

"Took the day off," I tell her, fixing her with a look that indicates she is going to have to try much harder than that to get out of the morning I have planned for her.

Seeing my expression, Sara sighs. "You're not going to take no for an answer, are you?"

"Not a chance."

Shaking her head, Sara eventually runs her hand through her dark hair. "Alright, come on inside while I throw on some clothes," she suggests, glancing down absently at her boxers and tank top. "Catherine is still sleeping."

I nod, quietly following her into the house and waiting in the living room while she disappears inside the bedroom.

After a moment or two, I head to the kitchen and jot a quick note for Catherine so she knows where Sara is for the morning.

Hearing the bedroom door opening and closing, I meet Sara back out in the living room.

"I have no clue what I should be wearing, so I decided to go with dressing similar to you in hopes that it fits our destination."

Seeing her athletic shorts and t-shirt that mirror my own, I smile. "That's perfect. Grab some good shoes."

Sara simply raises a brow, silently slipping her feet into her running shoes lying near the door.

"Alright, let's go," I say cheerily, holding in a laugh when I see Sara's expression at my tone, stepping together to the door and heading outside.

Climbing into my faithful Civic, I pull on my sunglasses to protect my eyes against the morning glare as I pull out of the drive and head off towards the main street.

"Coffee?" I offer, gesturing towards the cup holder where two cups sit, steam still making its way from the lids.

"Sure, thanks," Sara says, taking her own cup and cautiously attempting a couple sips.

It's clear that Sara is somewhat uncomfortable at the moment, her posture and averted gaze giving her away, and I don't know if it is simply the fact that she has no clue where we are headed nor what the morning has in store. More likely, though, I suspect it has something to do with the fact that the last time Sara and I saw each other, two nights ago, she shared with me the reasoning behind her recent standoffish behavior towards me. She was more open and honest with me about her feelings than she has ever been, and I wonder if now she feels embarrassed about the rare side of herself that she showed me that night. The side of herself that finally admitted that things in her world are not as perfect as she so often seems hell-bent on pretending they are.

"Hey," I call, waiting as Sara turns her attention from the scenery to me. When her eyes meet mine and I see the emotions buried there, I decide to let things go for now. "I think you're going to like where we are going," I tell her instead, keeping the conversation light. "And if not, it's a day off work for me and a day with Nancy Flynn for you."

Sara laughs lightly, "And, clearly, I get the better end of that deal."

"Damn straight you do."

Sara shakes her head, quietly drinking her coffee. "Remind me to call Catherine later, though, to tell her where I am at so she doesn't worry when she wakes up. I didn't want to wake her before."

I send her a smile, "Got you covered. I left her a note in the kitchen."

"Oh?" Sara questions, "You told her where we were headed?"

I shake my head, "No way. This place is a secret. I just told her I kidnapped you and was taking you to the desert."

Sara's eyes widen, her expression morphing drastically at my words.

"What?" I question, sending her a puzzled look of my own.

Shaking her head, Sara's mouth is trying to form words that never make it to her lips.

"Sara, what?" I ask again, not getting what has her rendered nearly speechless.

Suddenly, Sara breaks out into laughter, her expression still dumbfounded, but now holding a fair amount of amusement as well.

"You are so dead," she eventually gets out between laughs. "Oh my God, you are _so dead._"

Furrowing my brows, I glance between the road and Sara, trying to figure out what the hell she is talking about.

"Huh?" I eventually question.

"Think about what you told Catherine."

I think back to my note, imagining the written words scrolled across the note paper.

_Catherine, I kidnapped Sara. Taking her out to the desert._

Perhaps a bit brusque of a message, but certainly not something to warrant Sara's reaction.

Seeing that I am still at a loss, Sara shakes her head at me. "You told Catherine, after everything that has happened, that you, of all things, kidnapped me and took me, of all places, out to the desert. And, knowing you, you didn't even sign it to tell her who it was from."

Seeing my expression slowly morph from confusion to horror, Sara nods emphatically. "Yeah, exactly. All Catherine is going to have when she wakes up is an unsigned, cryptic note telling her that her lover has been kidnapped and taken to the desert."

"Oh my God," I breathe out, "After all that happened with Chris and the desert…"

Sara nods, a bemused smile coming to her face. "Not to mention the other thing."

My still horrified eyes meet hers, narrowing in a mixture of confusion and dread.

"The other thing," she clarifies casually with a shrug, "You know, the time when I actually _was_ kidnapped and taken out to the desert."

"Oh fucking shit," I curse, remembering my sister mentioning to me what happened to Sara some time ago, when she was taken out into the desert and left to die under a car by a deranged woman.

"She really is going to kill me," I conclude.

No longer able to hold back, Sara bursts out laughing yet again. "Yes, Nancy. She really is."

* * *

While my extreme idiocy left me quite embarrassed and in a frantic tizzy to get a hold of Catherine before she read that God awful note, it did wonders towards lifting the tense mood in the car. By the time we arrive at our destination, Sara seems somewhat less on edge.

Raising her brows at the sight around her when the car comes to a stop, Sara doesn't say a word, respectfully withholding judgment as she silently assesses the location. Opening the car door, she makes her way outside, moving a couple feet from the Civic as she looks carefully around her.

Stepping up aside her, I see her gaze stop at the rocky expanse directly ahead of us.

"I was serious before when I said this place is a secret. I have never told anyone about it, let alone taken anyone here before."

Sara silently nods, her eyes moving from the landscape to settle on mine, her expression serious as she silently waits for me to continue.

"When I first moved out here, I absolutely hated it. I hated Vegas, I hated the desert. All I wanted to do was return to the lush forests and towering mountain ranges of Montana. I missed home so badly that I nearly left one night, almost packed up all my stuff and called it quits. But, the next day, I decided that I wouldn't leave until I had actually made an effort to find my place here in Nevada. I went online and pulled up a topographical map of Vegas, picked the highest accessible elevation I could find within city limits, and drove there. Drove _here_. This is where I ended up nearly eleven years ago, on the brink of giving up. I saw that trail up ahead, and I took it. What I found when I got to the top, convinced me to stay."

Sara moves her gaze silently from me back out towards the steep trail before us, following it with her eyes until it disappears up into the hillside.

"What's at the top?" she asks quietly.

"That's what I brought you here to find out for yourself."

Quirking her head, Sara assesses me. "We're here to climb it?" Her tone is hard to read, making it hard to determine where she is at emotionally right now.

"When you told me about your frustrations about running the other night, I couldn't get this place out of my head. I am guessing that you enjoy running because it is a way of pushing your body to the limit so that you have no choice but to focus on keeping yourself moving, keeping yourself breathing. Forcing yourself to think only about the task at hand and not everything else going on in your life."

Sara narrows her eyes slightly, her expression still unreadable. "Something like that."

I nod, "Then I think you may find that there are other ways to achieve that same feeling that don't involve running."

Looking back out towards the trail, Sara asks, "We hike it?"

I nod, following her gaze. "Today we hike it. And we keep hiking it until the day you can run it."

As her eyes jerk back towards mine at my words, I tentatively reach out and place my hand on her shoulder.

"I thought about what you said, whether I wanted to approach your leg situation as your healthcare professional or as your friend. I'm here as your friend, Sara. I'm always going to be here as your friend. And, as your friend, I want to help you safely get yourself back to where you once were. If you'll allow me."

Eyes glancing between mine and the hand still clasping her shoulder, Sara swallows before returning her gaze to the landscape before us.

"I think I'd like that," she eventually states in nearly a whisper.

"So would I," I tell her honestly. "Thank you."

Nodding, Sara silently steps out from under my reach, clearing her throat as she pulls her hair up into a messy ponytail. I understand her actions and I give her the space that she needs right now. Pulling my own hair off my shoulders, I head to my trunk and pull out a couple bottles of water.

Tossing one to Sara, I gesture to the trail ahead of us.

"Ready when you are," I tell her.

Taking a deep breath, Sara nods and begins walking towards the trail, slowing her pace until I catch up alongside. Then, together, we begin our ascent, our breathing soon quickening as we combat the steep incline and the morning heat.

Neither one of us says a word the entire time, our absence of speech starting out as a choice but quickly transforming into a necessity as our bodies are pushed to the limit, every ounce of our breaths needed to bring our protesting muscles the oxygen they need to keep pushing, to keep propelling us upward.

By the time we reach the top, I am gasping heavily for air, my body immediately hunching over and my hands landing heavily on my knees for support. Feeling the sweat dripping off my face, I lower my head and close my eyes as I silently wait for my heartbeat to cease thundering in my ears.

After a couple minutes, I straighten back up, still catching my breath but feeling my body start to return to equilibrium.

Looking over, I see that Sara is also still breathing heavily, but, unlike me, her body is standing stock straight as her eyes are fixed on the view before her.

"It's beautiful," Sara breathes out, gaze not leaving the sight in front of her even as she hears my approach.

"I was searching for the highest elevation within Vegas because I was hoping to find something exactly like this. Something to remind me of home."

Looking around, I take in the species of evergreens, the thickened brush, the significantly cooler temperature.

"It's certainly not Montana, but it's close enough most days. And the hike was grueling enough to focus my thoughts solely on getting to the top. And now you know what I found when I got up here."

Sara nods quietly, "You found peace. Your thoughts were silenced, forced aside, and you found a rare moment of actual peace."

A small smile graces my lips, "Exactly. Most people would assume what I found was this incredible view. But, before I could even raise my head enough to look at the scenery around me, while I was still panting with my head between my knees, I felt at peace. In all my frustration, I had convinced myself that the only place I could find peace was back home in the place I missed so dearly. But, I learned after that hike that I could find moments of peace here in Vegas as well. I had the hope that perhaps those brief moments would someday lengthen and expand, and so I decided to give Vegas a try. The view, when I finally caught my breath enough to pick up my head, was simply icing on the cake."

Sara takes a deep breath, slowly oscillating the water bottle in her hands as she takes in my words.

We remain in silence for awhile, content to stand together, looking out onto the world below us. Eventually, I let out my own breath, turning my attention from the view to the person observing it with me.

"Sara, can I talk to you for a minute?" I ask, watching as Sara's eyes narrow at my words.

"Of course."

"It's about the other night."

I don't need to clarify what other night I am talking about as Sara's body stiffens almost immediately.

"Look, I won't ever talk about it again, but there are a couple things I feel I need to say to you. If that's alright."

Tightening her jaw, Sara works hard to keep her appearance neutral as she nods her head. "It's fine."

"First, I want to say that I am proud of you. I know it took a lot for you to let your guard down enough to be honest with me that night, and I appreciate it beyond words, Sara. I thought a lot about what you said, and I don't expect you to let your guard down around me often. And, I think in the end that's okay. It's part of who you are. Do I hope someday you feel comfortable enough to fully let me in? Of course. Everything I said to you that night still stands. But for right now, and for as long as you need, I am okay with whatever you are willing to give me. I want your friendship Sara, and I am willing and able to accept that friendship in whatever form and whatever extent you feel ready to give it. As _your _friend, I owe you that respect."

Sara's eyes, when they meet mine, search my expression, looking for something unknown to me. Before she can say anything, I continue.

"The other thing I want to tell you is something I should have told you long ago. I don't say stuff like this to you, mostly because I know you don't like a lot of touchy feely things. But, I should have told you this regardless. You said to me that you think of me as family, that you love and care for me. I want you to know, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that I think of you as my family as well. I have for quite some time. I love you. Beyond words, Sara Sidle, I love you."

Taking a breath, I wipe absently at the moisture gathering in my eyes. "I'm sorry I never told you that."

Sara nods slowly, her own voice strained and her eyes lowered when she responds. "Thank you," she says quietly, "That means a lot."

I nod, wanting nothing more right now than to give Sara a hug, to pull her into my arms like I used to. But, perhaps as a result of everything that has transpired between us, the shifts to our relationship that are still occurring and evolving even to this day, I feel hesitant to do so. I feel hesitant to touch her, to push her too far.

However, I am not hesitant to address the last item on my list. Perhaps it is a bit of the old Nancy rearing its head, but I have never been tentative around Sara when it comes to her health, and I refuse to start now.

"The last thing I wanted to talk to you about, Sara, was the reference you made to the decisions you have been making lately. The ones you promised yourself you wouldn't make anymore. I don't know for certain what you are referring to, and I am not going to ask you to tell me. But, knowing bits and pieces of your past decisions, having witnessed a few of them myself that day in your apartment, I believe I may have a good idea of what you are referencing. And, if I am correct in my assumption, know that I am not going to silently stand by while you make those types of decisions."

Sara doesn't say anything, her expression darkening slightly as she keeps her gaze directed out ahead of her.

Reaching out, I throw all caution to the wind as I take hold of her jaw and turn her face towards mine.

"Look at me, Sara," I demand.

Her eyes avoid my own, her jaw clenched tightly under my fingers.

I don't let go of her, instead stepping even closer as I silently wait for her to give me eye contact.

Finally, Sara's eyes land on mine.

"I care about you too damn much to see you make those types of decisions. To watch you do anything stupid enough to risk your own life, and the life that you have built with Catherine."

Perhaps it is the mention of Catherine, Sara's Achilles heel, that causes the brunette's expression to shift slightly. To soften slightly.

"Promise me, Sara. Promise me that it ends today. That, starting now, you do not ever make those choices again."

Sara doesn't say anything for a moment, her eyes shifting back and forth between mine. Finally, I feel some of the tension leave her body as she lets out a breath.

"I promise."

I watch her closely before eventually letting out a breath of my own. "Okay."

Loosening my grip on her jaw, I don't completely let go of her yet as I send her a tentative smile with a shake of my head.

"I am going to hug you now," I warn, leaving no room for argument.

Letting out a small smile, Sara nods as best she can with her face still held in my hand.

"I am going to accept your hug now," she responds with a light chuckle.

"Good," I state, and without further comment remove my hand from her face in order to wrap my arms tightly around her body. Feeling her arms return the gesture, I close my eyes and let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.

"Thank you," I hear Sara mutter near my shoulder. "Thank you for today, for doing this for me. And thank you for what you said. All of it."

"You're welcome. I meant all of it," I simply respond.

Giving Sara one final squeeze, I pull out of the embrace and step back to the edge of the hillside to take one final look at the view.

"You ready to head back?" I ask Sara after a moment.

"Whenever you are," she responds.

Nodding, I take a long drink from my water bottle and turn back towards the trail.

"We take this part slow," I caution, knowing that the descent is not something to attempt with any ideas about speed. Not if you want to retain use of your limbs. Or, actually, just retain your limbs.

"We may not have a choice," Sara says, stepping up alongside me, her cheeks reddening slightly at her admission.

Seeing the way she is keeping her weight shifted, I suspect that the trip up here was just about her leg's physical limit.

"This is only the first trip of many, Sara," I reassure her with a smile, beginning our decent, keeping my pace slow. "And we're not stopping until you're running this damn thing."

I hear Sara laugh lightly behind me, "Holy blazes, stubborn people are such a pain in the ass."

Laughing, I send her a pointed look over my shoulder. "Tell me about it."

* * *

SARA POV

Eyes shooting open, I nearly jump out of my skin when I find Catherine peering down at me.

"What…Cath…" I blurt out as I shoot to my feet, trying to figure out what just happened and where exactly I am at the moment.

Looking around me, I see that Catherine and I are standing on the porch, and Catherine's keys held in her hands indicate that she just got home. Just got home from work.

Oh shit. I can't believe I fell asleep waiting for her.

"Hey," I tell her in an attempt at casual. "How was your day?"

Catherine bursts out laughing, shaking her head at me bemusedly. "Nice try, Sar."

Reaching out, she runs her hand gently down my cheek, her fingers leaving trails of warmth in their path.

"Sorry I woke you," she says softly.

Leaning forward, I place a soft kiss on her lips, running my own hands down her sides. "I'm not."

Pressing closer to one another, I feel her hips connect with mine, someone letting out a moan as our hands and our tongues become decidedly more aggressive. My hands are about to make contact with some intimate portions of Catherine's anatomy when she pulls back slightly, perhaps realizing what we are about to do and where we are about to do it.

Taking a calming breath, she looks around her, eyes landing near my hip.

"Sara? Why were you sleeping on the porch with our cutlery?"

Raising a brow, I look down to find an oversized serving spoon sticking out from my jeans pocket.

"I find that this spoon brings me the sweetest of dreams when cradled in my arms."

Catherine sends me a look that is a mix between amused and concerned for my mental health. Pulling the spoon out, I set it on the porch railing.

"Actually," I tell her honestly, "I have something waiting for you inside. The spoon was unfortunate enough to be in my presence when I apparently dozed off out here."

Eyebrows raising, Catherine looks between me and the front door.

"And what exactly would this something be?" she asks.

"Why don't you go in and find out?" I propose.

Taking in my expression, Catherine's face pulls into a smile.

"Alright," she agrees, casting me one last tentative glance before making her way to the front door.

Following close behind, I silently watch as she enters the house. Looking around her, she sends me a curious glance.

"I don't see anything…"

"Keep going," I instruct.

Doing so, Catherine makes her way through the house, still confused as she doesn't see anything out of place. Then, just as she is about to pass the kitchen for the second time, she stops in her tracks.

Looking out through the sliding door to the backyard, she takes in a breath.

"Sara."

Eyes searching mine, I simply gesture towards the door. "Go ahead."

Sending me one last look, she turns and opens the sliding door, stepping out into the cooling dusk air.

Following her out, I close the door silently behind me as I watch her take in her surroundings. I see her eyes glance over each and every candle gracing the porch and leading down to the yard, the table intimately set for two, the fire smoldering lightly in the fire pit, the bottles of wine resting near two empty wine glasses.

"Sara," she breathes out again. "This is beautiful…"

Stepping up behind her, I keep our bodies as close as possible without touching.

"Would you have dinner with me?" I ask, keeping my voice low, not wanting to disturb the peaceful world around us.

Turning, Catherine closes the sliver of distance between our bodies, her lips meeting mine before trailing kissing across my neck.

"I would be honored," she whispers near my ear.

Pulling away, she keeps her gaze on mine, and it takes everything inside of me to not scrap the idea of dinner altogether and take Catherine straight inside for…other…activities.

Reaching behind her, I pull out a chair and wait as she settles herself at the table.

"I'll be right back," I promise.

She nods, her gaze still taking in everything around her.

Heading inside, I open the oven and pull out the food being kept warm inside. Grabbing it carefully and being sure to turn off the oven, I make my way back towards the door.

Seeing Catherine sitting outside, candlelight flickering across her features, I nearly drop the food at the vision before me. Here is this beautiful woman, this amazingly beautiful woman inside and out, and she is waiting at a table to have an intimate dinner with the person that she loves. Never in my wildest dreams, would I ever have pictured that I would be the person that someone like Catherine Willows would be waiting to fill the empty seat across from her.

Taking a deep breath, I pull myself together and step out the door, making my way to the table.

Setting down the dish, I unwrap the foil from the top and set it aside.

"Hope you like vegetarian lasagna," I offer.

"If it's your homemade lasagna, Sara, then you know I more than like it," she tells me, watching as I serve us both a healthy portion.

"Babe, this is amazing," she tells me, looking around her. "Thank you."

I shrug, "With everything going on it's been so long since we have done something like this together. I missed it."

Catherine's eyes are warm when they meet mine. "I missed it, too."

Sending her a smile, I take a hesitant taste of the lasagna on my plate, hoping that it turned out alright.

Hearing a moan across from me, I feel relieved that it apparently came out more than alright.

"Oh my God," Catherine mumbles between the food in her mouth, "If I didn't love you before this…"

I laugh, enjoying my own food, but enjoying the company more.

"Hey, Cath," I eventually ask when we slow down our eating enough to actually speak coherently. "Why did you originally move to Vegas? I know you are from Montana, but I don't think I ever knew what prompted your move out here. If you don't mind my asking."

Catherine takes a sip of her wine before placing her glass back on the table. "My mom, she got a job here. So we moved. Knowing what I know now, though, I think she moved here to be closer to Sam."

I nod slowly, "But she moved away again?"

Catherine nods as well, "Yeah, a couple years after we got here, actually. I think when she realized my father wasn't the man she thought she knew. At least not anymore. So she went back to Montana. And, ironically, Nancy and I are still here."

I take in her answer, silently drinking my own wine.

"How about you?" she asks. "I guess I always assumed it was because of Grissom? You worked with him in San Francisco, and he offered you a job here so you took it?"

I let out a small smile, shaking my head. "Not really. Grissom was a convenient excuse when people asked," I tell her honestly. "Truth is I was planning to leave California anyway, I just didn't have a destination in mind until Grissom called, and then Vegas became that destination."

"You wanted to leave California?" Catherine prompts, watching me from across the table, candlelight playing off her eyes.

"Yeah," I tell her, "My brother Liam had just gotten arrested some months back, and I really wanted nothing more to do with that place. Literally every Sidle at that point was either dead or in jail, and I just wanted to get away from it all. Start over somewhere new. Find myself a new life."

Catherine nods slowly, taking in my words. "And did you find what you were looking for?"

I let out a small smile, "Catherine, I think you know the answer to that."

Letting out a smile of her own, Catherine reaches across the table and takes my hand in hers. "I think I do."

Lacing our fingers together, I run my thumb across her knuckles. "Good. Don't forget it."

Watching each other across the candlelight, I come to the conclusion that I don't think it is possible for two people to be further in love than we are in this moment. Than we have been since the moment we decided to start our life together.

After an undetermined amount of time later, Catherine and I finally decide that it is probably a good idea to clear the table before we lose all motivation to do so.

Gathering our plates, I head inside and hear Catherine place our leftovers in the fridge as I place our dishes in the dishwasher.

As I turn around, I find myself pinned against the counter, Catherine's hands holding tightly to my hips.

"I have wanted to do this all dinner long," she confesses, leaning in and kissing me deeply.

"Glad I wasn't the only one," I mumble when we break apart for air.

I reverse our positions, lifting Catherine so that she is resting on the counter, and her legs quickly wrap themselves around my waist. Grasping each other tightly, we press further into one another, our mouths beginning on self directed journeys to unknown destinations.

Just as I feel Catherine bite down somewhere near my collarbone, the doorbell rings.

Groaning, I keep moving my own mouth towards the sensitive spot behind her ear.

"Ignore it," Catherine mumbles, her breath hitching when I reach said spot.

"No problem," I agree, the person at the door already forgotten as my hands lift her hair to gain better access to the skin hidden beneath.

The doorbell becomes harder to ignore, however, when it begins ringing repeatedly.

"Dear Jesus," Catherine mutters, "Whoever that is is about to depart this life in a very painful manner."

Pulling away slightly, I nod. "Agreed. But we should probably get it, it sounds important…if not insistent."

Letting out a breath, Catherine runs a hand through her hair, "I know, but God I really don't want to."

Smiling, I gently help her down from the counter.

"I'll get it," I offer, already stepping forward towards the door when Catherine gently takes my arm.

"I got it," she insists, "You're much too polite for the things I am prepared to say to this person to get them the hell out of here."

Laughing, I silently gesture to the door with a groan as the doorbell rings yet again.

"Enjoy."

Smiling a devilish smile, Catherine nearly rips the door off its hinges as she pulls it open.

"What?" she practically yells at the person standing there.

Her anger, however, is quickly transformed into concern when she sees who it is. "Oh, crap, Jim. I'm sorry. Is everything alright?"

You don't need to be a CSI to know that it's never really a good thing to have a police officer stopping by your house after the end of a work day.

"Yes, everything's fine," he responds, reaching out to place a calming hand on her arm.

"Hey, Sara," he adds when he sees me step up alongside Catherine.

"Hi," I greet, still feeling my heart racing in spite of his earlier words. And, if Catherine's posture is any indication, she is also feeling only slightly relieved by his reassurances.

"I came by to talk to you, if you have a minute," he tells Catherine.

"Of course," she says, gesturing for him to step inside.

"Actually," he hedges, casting an anxious glance my way, "I need to talk to you alone. I'm sorry, Sara."

Raising my hand, I shake my head. "It's fine. You guys take all the time you need."

Stepping away from the door, I direct my attention to Catherine. "I'll finish cleaning up out back, just come find me whenever you are done."

Searching my eyes, Catherine sends me a silent apology with her own, hating to shut me out of anything but knowing she has no choice right now.

"Nice seeing you, Jim," I offer to Brass, giving Catherine a slight smile as I walk away from them to let her know I understand.

"You too, Sara," I hear him respond behind me, his voice strained as he no doubt feels awkward about this situation.

Heading outside, I take a deep breath of the night air, trying to calm myself down. I have a pretty decent idea of what Brass is here to discuss with Catherine, and his decision to discuss it in person can either be a very good or very bad sign.

Taking another breath, I look around me, observing the table with lit candles still surrounding it. After a silent self-chastisement for repeatedly leaving candles burning unattended in a desert, I conclude that the setting the perfect peaceful ambiance that I need right now to remain calm. Heading down the porch steps, I move closer to the fire pit, stooping down to pet Mesa where he lays sleeping in the warmth. Raising his head, he gives my hand a gentle lick before lowering himself back down.

Deciding that things are clean enough for now, I sit next to Mesa and settle in to wait. Silently, I watch the flames and listen to the crackling wood, following the paths of the burning embers as they escape into the night air before smoldering out.

Some time later, I hear the back door slide open and closed, footsteps making their way softly to my side.

"Sara."

Catherine's voice is tentative, the emotions underneath a complicated mixture that is hard to decipher.

Standing, I turn to face her, watching her as she watches me in the firelight.

Stepping closer to me, Catherine reaches out and places her hand on my shoulder, giving it a light squeeze.

"Honey, Jim came by to talk to me about your job. IA made their decision."

I take a breath, "I figured."

Looking into my eyes, she tries to get a read for what I am thinking, what I am feeling right now.

"Sweetheart," she starts, "They-"

Suddenly raising my hand, I shake my head, cutting the words off before they can leave her lips.

"No," I request quietly but firmly. "Do not tell me. Not tonight."

Catherine's expression becomes confused, concerned.

"Sara," she breathes, holding the side of my face gently in her hand.

Shaking my head, I take her hand from my face to hold it tightly in mine.

"It doesn't matter, Catherine."

Now looking at me like I just told her I see dead people and commune with them regularly, Catherine shakes her own head.

"Sara, this is the news you have been waiting so long to hear. News about the job that means everything to you…"

Stepping forward, I make sure my eyes are on hers, my expression visible in the flickering firelight dancing across the air around us.

"That's the thing, Catherine. It doesn't mean everything to me. You do." Reaching forward, I take her other hand in mine as well.

"I always thought that my job defined me, that without it I would be lost. But these past couple days I finally really thought honestly about my feelings regarding the possibility of losing my job, and I got some much needed perspective. The only thing in this life I cannot live without, Catherine, is you."

Making sure she is hearing what I am saying, I hold her hands tighter. "My job is important to me, of course. Being without it these past weeks has been awful, yes, but I have finally come to realize that as long as I have you by my side, I have what is truly important. I have everything I truly need. Everything else is absolutely inconsequential by comparison. My only frustration now lies with myself, with how long it took me to realize that."

Removing one of my hands from hers, I gently tuck the blonde locks of hair fluttering in the wind behind her ear. Keeping my hand there, I let out a breath.

"Please, Catherine. Tonight I simply want to be with the woman that I love, spending the night together in each other's arms. Tomorrow you can tell me what IA has decided. But for right now, all I want is to cherish the one true aspect of my life that I could not possibly live without."

Eyes searching mine, Catherine places her free hand against my chest.

"I love you," she whispers quietly, her voice thick with emotion.

Stepping forward, I take her in my arms, holding her close as I breathe in deeply. I feel Catherine do the same, her hand moving gently through my hair.

Finally pulling away, I reach out and take Catherine's hand. Moving together with her back towards the house, I barely remember to blow out the candles as I pass.

Stepping into the bedroom, Catherine and I slowly help each other undress, hands moving reverently across exposed skin, rediscovering the details of the person standing before us.

As we make our way to the bed, I find myself in absolute awe of this person that I get to spend my life with. This person that has taught me so much about myself, so much about the world around me.

I found the one person in this life that has the ability to complete me, to make me whole again. I love her beyond expression, and I am rendered awestruck when I remind myself that she loves me back.

Tomorrow I will find out the future of my career, whether my world as I know it is about to shift drastically.

But, tonight, Catherine and I have each other.

And, for the first time in my life, I find myself embracing the darkness of nightfall, not caring in the least if tomorrow never comes at all.

THE END

* * *

**AN: Thank you all for taking this journey with me, I hope you enjoyed it. I have given some thought as to whether to write a sequel to continue this series – and ultimately I have decided to leave it up to all of you. I certainly have a number of ideas for the characters, but I don't want to presume anyone would be interested if they are not. Let me know. Again, thank you to everyone who has shown their interest and support for this story, it has meant more than you know. Until we meet again, take care. **


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